


Chrysanthemums and Corridors

by ddacat



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-01-16 12:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12342432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddacat/pseuds/ddacat
Summary: Magic is real when she's with him. But no one can know that they're together. Gossip travels too fast at Vineyard School, and news about him travels even faster. So no one can know about their escapes to the secret corridors, or their dates at Flower Tea, or the smiles they share, or that they're dating at all. But she'll have to choose soon: a quiet life, or one filled with magic?





	1. know your botany

From her new apartment, it was a ten minute walk to both places. She knew the way to one place already, the sidewalks and crosswalks etched into her memory along with her sister's gaunt, pallid face. The other path led to school.  
She glanced over her shoulder out of habit, her hand beginning to rise to wave goodbye—but the front of the gray government-subsidized housing was empty. This chapter would not be the same. Her parents would not be there each morning, their arms around each other as she and her sister toted their backpacks and embarked on their trip to school.  
As she passed by, the doves and sparrows in the trees opened their throats and the decades-old houses of the neighborhood opened their doors, little children and fathers and strollers and mothers greeting the morning with hugs and brown paper lunch bags. Maylie picked up her pace.   
The walk to her new school was odd and jarring, each growl of a lawn mower, ping of a bicycle bell, and crunch of an October leaf underfoot echoing strangely in her ears. It wasn't until she checked in at the high school front office and heard the growing white noise of student chatter that she started to forget life wasn't as it used to be.  
Her class schedule, when she received it, doubled as a school map—which would have been helpful, had the school's layout not been modeled after Midas's Labyrinth. Maylie tightened her grip on her backpack straps, checking the bell schedule. Her first class would start at 7:40, so she had fifteen minutes exactly to navigate the campus and find the room. She checked the clock—7:25 a.m. With another quick study of the map and fifteen minutes to spare, she entered the labyrinth.   
The inside of the maze shone bright and green, plants and lights decorating every surface. Ivy dressed the walls; hanging plants sandwiched each of the doors. Maylie nearly tripped over potted bamboo that had spilled across the cobbled floor.   
As students filled the hall, a time-lapse of movement around her, she realized, with five minutes left, that she'd gotten herself lost.   
Stomach turning, she found the nearest bench to take a deep breath and recount her steps. She'd started at the outer circle, walked maybe halfway around, and entered the second circle from there. Although... now, as she reviewed the map, that couldn't be true. There wasn't any path between the first and second around halfway. She rotated the map.  
"Lost?"  
Maylie swiveled around. "Yes, actually!"  
"I thought so," said the boy. "You must be new." He grinned, brown eyes like earthy half-moons, hair parted like a nineties-era heartthrob. He was dressed for the runway, or maybe a street style fashion shoot, his light-wash jeans perfectly ripped and his sneakers clean and new. There was something about the way he looked, or the way he smiled, that made her feel like they had something in common.  
Smiling gratefully, she handed him her schedule. Maybe it was just something in the way attractive people were programmed, that they made onlookers feel connected without trying at all. "How do I get to M104?"   
He pulled his hands out of his jacket to point. "I'll take you there."  
"Really?" She hopped to her feet. "I don't know whose smart idea it was to structure a school like a maze."  
As he guided her through the halls, she realized that the path seemed to clear. Ivy grew up and over their heads in trimmed arches, no spade-shaped leaves brushing against them. The potted plants lined up their ranks neatly against the walls, the breeze picking up stray soil and fertilizer, sweeping it all to the side with its invisible broom.   
He nudged her. "Hey, I'll let you in on a little Vineyard School secret." He gestured out at the layers and shades of green, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "As long as you know your botany, you'll never be lost."  
She blinked, still lost among the soft light and saturated aroma of the garden halls. "Huh?"  
"The halls are coded," he said. "The 'M' in M104 stands for memory. The plants each hall go in alphabetical order, starting from the north and going clockwise."  
She was listening now, but still the words passed right through her ears. "What?" She tried to replay them, make sense of them.  
He stopped, the amused crinkle by his eyes showing that he knew he'd caught her interest. He returned her schedule to her. "This is your class."  
"Wait, what does 'memory' mean?"  
He just grinned. "You'll figure it out, right?" Turning on his heel, he waved goodbye. "I'll catch you later!"  
Around her, the light seems to dim and the plants seemed to encroach. She stared after him for a moment, perplexed, then sighed and headed inside.

Vineyard School of Fine Arts was a magnet school. Its student body consisted of artists, dancers, musicians—and very few academics. This Maylie realized immediately. Her AP Calculus BC class had only four students in it, of which none seemed particularly engaged. Even the teacher napped at the front desk.  
Upon opening the door, Maylie wasn't quite sure whether the boy had led her to the right room.  
A girl's head turned, her lion's mane of natural hair bouncing and light reflecting off her oversized glasses. Intrigued, she nudged her friend, a tiny girl with shoulder-length black hair and a pink sweater that swallowed her whole. The friend blinked sleepily, but immediately grinned when she caught sight of Maylie.   
"Hi!" she chirped, running up to Maylie. Now that she opened her mouth, she looked noticeably bigger, despite her stature staying the same. "Are you looking for someone?"  
"Actually," Maylie said, "Uh, I'm a new student."  
The girl's eyes bugged out of her head. "Really? Wow! What's your name? I'm Jenna!"  
"And I'm Saf," said her friend. "Her name's on her name tag, you dummy."  
"Oh!" Jenna squinted. "Maylie Yang? That's so pretty! What's your major?"  
"Film," she said. "What about—?"  
"I'm in film too! A minor, though; I'm a music major. Saf is a film major! So is Laurie Sanchez—she's like a major in everything though; I don't know how she does it. Aimee's that one in the corner studying. And the one in the other corner is Joseph, but I don't think he even has a major."  
She glanced him for a moment, shaking her head. He sprawled across five desks, headphones over his ears, snoring. "What a lost cause."  
"Is... every class like this?" Maylie wondered.  
"This class is special," said Saf. "The school figures that since we're all advanced students anyway, there's no need to worry about us. And Mr. Schwartz is actually a phenomenal teacher."  
"Well, between the hours of 9:15 am and 2:30 pm," Jenna corrected.  
"Yeah," agreed Saf. "This class is an easy A. Just do the classwork, ace the tests, and you'll be fine. If you're confused, ask Schwartz during his office hours. He's awake then."  
"I see," said Maylie, and slumped into a seat behind them. The girls chattered on until the bell rang, and Maylie rummaged for her schedule again. She had AP Literature next, and Jenna happily took the role of tour guide. Joseph and Laurie were in that class with her, too, although she couldn't quite figure out how the former had gone from sleeping like a rock to snoozing in the next class halfway across campus.   
"Vineyard harbors many secrets," said Jenna. "One of them is Joseph Rosario, and how he hasn't managed to flunk out yet." Whispering, she added, "I think he has connections. Either that or witchcraft."  
Maylie laughed. "Witchcraft?"  
"Yeah, watch this!" Jenna closed her eyes, hummed, and chanted, "Fennel, columbine, rue, daisy, make this place all tipsy-crazy." Pausing, she looked around, her dark eyes sparkling, then broke out into a grin. "Well, obviously I would have to make the potion first; I can't just say the incantation and expect it to work."  
"Clearly. Speaking of plants, someone I met earlier said I'll never be lost as long as I know my botany."  
Jenna nodded sagely. "They're so right! Anyway, I'll see you at lunch!"  
Maylie nodded uncertainly and took a seat in the front of the classroom. Only one other student sat in the front row with her.  
"You're a bit of an overachiever, aren't you," said Laurie, speaking for the first time that day. She appraised her, a slight curl to her glossed lips, her Instagram eyes narrowed. Her left hand hovered over a dense book opened on her desk, colorful ink tattooing the pages; her other hand twirled her perfectly curled hair.   
Maylie wasn't quite sure whether she was being sneered at or smiled at—so she shifted uncomfortably in the plastic seat and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I mean—I guess. But aren't you an overachiever, too?"  
Laurie sighed, instantly bored, and turned her attention to the board. "I'm not an overachiever; I'm the overachiever. The top of the school rankings, every year. But I guess I didn't have to worry. You're clearly not up to par."  
Reddening, Maylie said, "Excuse me?"  
"Hey newbie, don't think I'm trying to be mean. I'm just stating things as they are." She turned her head back slightly, her chin resting on her fist like she was a modern-day incarnation of Rodin's Thinker. "I'll even give you some advice. One: buy a copy of _Hamlet_ and start catching up. We're already halfway through and I'm sure you don't want to fail Lit in your senior year, am I right? And two: if you want to be popular, sit with me at lunch. Knowing geeks like Jenna Lee and Saffron Hayes will only get you so far." Smirking, Laurie returned to marking up the book in front of her. "Anyway, that's just my two cents. Take it or leave it."   
Maylie wanted to retort something, to stand up for her newfound friends, but she couldn't think of one good thing to say that might change anything, so she just nodded slowly and waited for class to begin.  
The teacher started class promptly at the bell, and seemed to do a double-take upon seeing Maylie. "You! You're not in my class!"  
"Oh, she's a transfer," said Laurie smugly. "I can help her out, get her settled if you want."  
"Could you?" beamed the teacher whose apple-adorned name plaque identified her as Mrs. Whitney. She was a round, curly-haired lady whose every feature seemed to melt into the average, her skin pink and just barely beginning to droop with age. "Oh, that's great! Alright, today let's start out with a book quiz—Miss Transfer, you're exempt—and then we'll delve into our Literature Circle groups. Clear your desks!"  
With a groan, students shuffled, stuffing notes and paperbacks into waiting backpacks, rummaging around for the elusive number two pencil.   
Laurie twirled a laurel green mechanical pencil in her hand, her self-assuredness a stark contrast to the rest of the classroom. "Tip number three, newbie," she said. "If you do the assigned reading and annotate, you'll always score well. Unlike those Sparknoting losers in the back."  
Maylie nodded again, folding her hands together, and stayed that way until the quiz concluded. For Lit Circles, the class rearranged their desks into groups and Maylie found herself yet again stuck with Laurie Sanchez and Joseph Rosario. Aimee was poised with pens in hand, notes opened neatly. Joseph, on the other hand, stuck his water-damaged book upside-down on the desk, pages spread and spine protesting. He yawned, scratching his head. His hair, which must have, at one point this morning, been gelled up perfectly, now stuck up this way and that, runaway strands framing his forehead in odd spots. His cardinal college hoodie was creased in all the wrong places, the strings uneven like he'd tried to pull one end all the way through but gave up when the knot wouldn't fit through the hole.  
The other two students were introduced as Dmitriya Smirnov and Abhiram Datta, but as Laurie informed her with whispered side-comments, they weren't worth the memory space better spent on minor Shakespearian side characters like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.  
When lunch rolled by after AP US Government, Maylie was beyond ready to get up and stretch her legs. At the bell, Jenna appeared magically at the door, a huffing and puffing Saf in tow. Laurie, in the same class again, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Go ahead, if you must," she warned, "But keep what I said in mind. Your ticket to popularity expires tomorrow."  
So Maylie snatched up her bag and fled the classroom as quick as she could. Each interaction with Laurie left her stressed, and she wanted nothing more than to indulge herself on cup noodles and find out, finally, whatever that botany code was that everyone else at Vineyard seemed to understand but her.   
However, Maylie soon realized she would not be solving her mystery anytime soon—Jenna seemed keen on discussing other matters, like all the gossip Maylie would need to catch up on in order to be a truly integrated member of the Vineyard community. Saf had just scoffed at that, and scrolled through Twitter on her phone throughout the entire period, pausing only to interject "So what?" and "Who cares?" whenever Jenna started getting judgmental.  
Even as lunch ended, and the three of them were shuttled off to their last class of the day, Jenna enumerated at length the list of the cutest boys at school, and some Lars Larsson who took Instagram pictures with babies and therefore topped the rankings.  
At the end of the day, after an hour-long chemistry lecture of which she understood two words, Maylie was ready to retire.  
The walk home was uneventful but calming. When she reached her home, though, the hairs on her arms rose and she knew instinctively something was wrong. In the kitchen, her mother was wailing, a mountain of crumpled-up tissues growing by the second. Her father tried to comfort her, shoving everything from ice cream to chocolate bars in front of her in an effort to calm her down.   
"How could she say we don't care?!" Maylie's mother sobbed, her face splotchy with red and her blond hair a tangled mess. "Is she trying to spite us? _What did we do wrong?_ "  
"Don't you think she was overreacting?" Maylie's father tried. "Kids are like that."  
Maylie knew at once they were talking about her sister. Their visit earlier that day must not have gone well. But then again, when had one ever? The first day Amelie had been sent to the facility they'd had to drag her kicking and screaming.  
Maylie's mother kept sobbing. "We're failures as parents, Stephen!"  
That was enough for Maylie. She tip-toed past them, her stomach twisting in cold knots, and silently shut her bedroom door behind her. That night, she fell asleep listening to her sister's favorite Broadway show, the songs repeating and repeating like her mother's tears until the morning.


	2. shortcuts are everywhere

The warning bell rang. Her B-day classes were different than yesterday’s; the paths she tried all concluded in dead ends, and she was just as lost as before. Again, she wandered the maze, hoping that somehow, the classroom number she was looking for would appear in front of her. 

But it didn’t and a minute passed, then two, then five, and the final bell rang for the start of classes. She was late, already, on her second day of school.

From down the hall came a figure, and she stood up straight, preparing every possible excuse she had for her tardy. A school official would understand, wouldn’t they, if she told them truthfully she’d gotten lost?

The figure stumbled, hand grasping for a firm grip on the wall. Maylie let out a breath, her posture relaxing. It was Joseph.

“Hey,” she called out, “Do you know where Y115 is?”

“By the vicaria and wisteria,” he slurred, stumbling again. His hair was a mess, his clothes the same as yesterday’s. Dark bags hung under his eyes where there weren't any before. She could tell already he was drunk and backed away, heart pounding.

For a moment she almost thought she saw Amelie’s eyes staring back at her, with the same kind of soulless sadness and pent-up rage.

But of course she didn’t. Joseph and Amelie were nothing alike. 

Maylie grabbed one of Joseph’s arms, pulling him up. “You’re not planning on going to class like this, are you?”

He nodded blearily, trying to look at her, but his gaze kept on slipping. “Can’t disappoint my dad.”

She looked him up and down. “I think you’re already disappointing him. You can’t just go to class drunk.” Bracing herself, she pushed him upright and dragged him, step by step, down the hall. His feet knocked into stray terra-cotta pots, his grasping hands ripping ivy from the walls. His breath stank of alcohol and something else smoky, his eyes dilating and expanding as he looked from sunroof to dark hallway. She hoped the odor wouldn’t rub off on her.

“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, grimacing under his weight. 

“Bathroom?” Joseph stopped walking. “I have to go to class.”

She tugged on his arm, annoyed. “It’s either the bathroom or the office. Your choice.”

Eventually, Joseph relented and pointed the way. When they finally arrived, Joseph looked ready to heave and Maylie’s forehead dampened with sweat. “Wash your face,” she said, pushing him into the restroom. “And stay in there until you’re sober.”

He grunted, eyes drooping like he might just faint on the spot. “Sober,” he repeated, almost giggling.

“Yeah! And if you need help, text me.” Maylie rummaged around in her bag for a pen, then grabbed his forearm to scribble out her number. 

She didn’t think it was right to leave him there alone, but class had started five minutes ago already. As she headed back down the path, she realized at once that she still had no idea where she was going. Even the plants taunted her, littering her path with unruly shrubs and spilled dirt. Frustrated, she stopped and retraced her steps, thinking through possible solutions. 

Y115… there must be a clue somewhere, she hoped. The number was in the hundreds range… so, the classroom should then be on the first floor, where she already stood. That gave her a bit of reassurance. 

But from the classrooms around her, she still didn’t seem to be anywhere near her first class. Down the hall, she saw L105, L106, and L107 at the end. There had been a path from the Y ring further down, she remembered, when she’d been trying to find her path earlier. She’d gone from the office, past Y101 to Y108, when the hall had veered over and brought her to the inner D ring. Then she’d wandered around in the M ring, then upstairs to Y, then back down to D, then to Y again. 

Maylie groaned. There was no way she’d figure out the puzzle before the end of class. 

“Lost?” said someone, and Maylie spun around, eyes wide, her hands shooting to her sides. 

The boy from yesterday stood with his hands in his bomber jacket, an amused tilt to his face. Today, his hair was swept up, his jeans black and ripped at the knees, his backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. For all she knew, he could have been standing there a while.

She nodded, sighing with relief. “Yeah, again.”

“Where do you need to go?”

When she told him he grinned and walked past her, down the hall. After a moment, she realized she was meant to follow him. Hastily, she scampered after him, gripping her backpack straps tightly. 

Keeping pace with him, once she caught up, was easy. He strolled, as though tardiness meant nothing to him, the potted shrubs and hanging flowers and trailing vines gathering up all the light from the sunroof and reflecting onto him so that he nearly seemed to glow. The sunshine and floral aroma to the air suited him perfectly. Smiling, Maylie thought he could be a flower himself, or a mythical nymph of the meadow. As she walked with him, she saw once more that nature had parted for them into a neat path, saluting and paying their respects.

He navigated the hall with ease, ducking into and out of corridors like the way was lit up for him. “Here's another secret,” the boy said, stopping. He gestured at the walls, which were so thick with ivy and hanging vines that the red brick behind them were nowhere to be seen. “Shortcuts are everywhere.” 

He brushed a particularly thick section of vines aside, lifting them like curtains. Behind them, the brick wall was gone; a narrow alley lit only by sunbeams through the sunroof glimmered beyond. He stepped inside, beckoning to Maylie with a nod. “Y115 is right through here.”

His lighthearted innocence pulled at her, and she followed him into the alley without a second thought, stepping over and through the tangle of leaves at the entrance.

He was already moving to the other end, his fingers trailing over the brick facade behind him. The curtain swung open again, and he stood there with his arm holding the secret entrance open, waiting, as she made it to the end of the alley and stepped out. When the vines swished back into place, he pointed at the door ahead of them. “Here it is.”

“Thank you!” Maylie was relieved, and opened the door to her class, bracing herself for a lecture on timeliness. The classroom though, had her staring in surprise for a moment. Instead of desks or even tables, three rows of movie theater seats took up half the room, and a wall-sized white screen covered the front of classroom, where a whiteboard would usually be. A PowerPoint presentation was projected on the screen, the slide saturated with jargon like “mise en scene” and “non-diegetic sound.” 

She looked back, expecting the boy to be gone, but he stood behind her, his hands in his pockets, and watched her the way one would watch an amusing puppy. “Advanced Filmmaking is my class, too,” he said, and stepped around her to enter the classroom and take his seat.

A familiar voice from within the classroom hissed her name. From the first row, Jenna waved frantically at her, pointing simultaneously at the empty seat next to her. Thankfully, Maylie clutched her backpack and hurried in to sit.

Most of the seats in the classroom were unoccupied, in fact; as she glanced around the room, she counted only about eleven other students. She recognized Saf, Jenna, Laurie, and the boy among them but the rest were unfamiliar to her.

The slide on the screen changed. “For this project you're going to get into groups of four,” the teacher said from her chair in the front corner. The lights in the room flicked on, making the slide on the screen harder to read. She scanned the class, and found Maylie. “There you are. You're the new student, aren't you?”

Maylie nodded. 

“Perfect. We now have twelve students, so three groups of four exactly.”

Someone tapped Maylie on the shoulder. Turning around, Maylie saw it was Laurie. “Join my group, newbie.” Her makeup was as perfect as yesterday, the same grayish green eyeshadow shimmering on her eyelids and beige color coating her lips.

Jenna spun around, bristling. “We claimed her first!” She elbowed Saf. “Isn't that right?”

Saf grunted, uninterested.

Laurie leaned back into her seat, examining her manicure. “Well, if you want her that bad, take her.”

The teacher nodded. “In that case, Jenna and Saf will be in a group with the new student. And I need one more…” She scanned the class again, and said, “Samir, join them.”

The class broke into groups— Maylie wasn't quite sure what the assignment was, but Jenna’s ceaseless talking solved that. 

Samir was a tall boy with gangly, almost comical limbs and a thin layer of rugged scruff. He dressed like a T-Bird, a thin leather jacket much too big for his frame hanging off his shoulders and a plain white shirt tucked into his pants. He’d leaped over the row of theater seats in order to take his seat next to Saf. Now, he expanded, extending his elbow onto the armrest between their seats, leaning toward her with a little grin as she glared.

“Get your cooties away from me,” Saf growled, and Samir nodded eagerly, sitting upright and folding his hands in his lap like an obedient schoolboy.

Jenna took over working on the assignment. When Maylie offered to help, she laughed outright and said, “Next time. No offense, but you just got here. You don’t know how to do anything yet.”

Biting her lip, Maylie nodded and sat back in her chair, disappointed. Samir, to her left, reached for Jenna’s work, exclaiming, “Let me try! I’m really good at… whatever it is we’re doing. Let me let me!”

Saf shoved him. “How can you delude yourself so much?”

In the back of the room, commotion caught Maylie’s eye. A group of boys were there, one of whom was the one who'd led her to class, who focused on the assignment, ignoring the two of the others whom were dressed in the same T-Bird fashion as Samir, their hair slicked back and greasy. However, where Samir was a goofy long-legged fawn, these two were hyenas. They jostled each other, teeth bared nearly viciously. One was big, like a cross between a tomato and a football player, his straw-colored hair nearly translucent on his pink head. The other had a smaller frame, with short dark hair and beady eyes. He watched his friend for cues and approval, mimicking his movements. 

The porky one shot dirty looks at Maylie’s savior, knocking into him and sending calculated disturbances in his direction. The moment he turned, though, both of the T-Birds shrank away.

“Are you trying to hurt your own grade?” the boy said, annoyed, and the porky one swore back, “It was an accident!”

It wasn't, and Maylie considered jumping in for a moment. But she felt a tap from behind her again, and Maylie swiveled to see Laurie, tilting her head in concern. “You're not interested in him, are you,” she said, and Maylie knew immediately she wasn't talking about either of the hyenas. “He’s mine,” she stated matter-of-factly, “And he eats with me at lunch.” She narrowed her eyes. “Remember, my offer expires today.”

 

Her next class was Screenwriting, with much the same people, then Film Criticism. And then it was lunch, and Laurie waited by the door, arms crossed, with her bubbly blonde friend, who had deep charcoal skin that contrasted boldly from her platinum hair and bright dress. 

Maylie, although uneasy about Laurie’s queen bee attitude, still was grateful for the offer, and knew it was a crummy move to turn down a well-intentioned offer, no matter how gruff the presentation. When she brought it up with her friends though, Jenna recoiled.

“Don't you dare!”

“Why not,” Saf countered. “She sat with us yesterday. Let her broaden her horizons.”

“You don't understand!” Jenna wailed, “If she sits with the popular kids, we’ll be replaced! We can't be replaced!”

“Alright, alright,” Maylie relented, feeling guilty for even asking. When they left the room, Jenna linked their arms together and dragged her out with all the force of a train, sticking her tongue out at Laurie as they passed.

Laurie’s already unpleasant expression soured, and Maylie nodded in apology as Jenna pulled her away.

Lunch today was marked by Jenna’s incessant complaints about Queen Bee Laurie and her Popular Posse.

“That sounds like a good band name,” said Saf, and Jenna growled at her.

“I hate her,” Jenna said, seething, “Her and her perfect grades, glossy hair, pretty makeup, natural Satan-given talent, nice body, self-righteousness, model-worthy face—ugh, I  _ loathe _ her.”

Saf cackled. “You sound more like you're in love with her.”

“I don't think she's even a real human,” mused Jenna, oblivious. “Her face is too symmetrical. I bet she's secretly an android. A soulless robot that smells good.”

Maylie nudged Saf. “I think you're right.” Waving a hand in front of Jenna’s face, she tried to change the subject. “Hey! Tell me, who else is in the Popular Posse?”

Jenna’s eyes lit up with the chance to gossip. “Oh, oh, oh! Okay, so there’s Anna—that's Laurie’s best friend. She’s super sweet, unlike  _ that  _ devil, and basically every guy at school is in love with her.”

“But she doesn't like any of them,” Saf added. “I think she's ace.”

Eyes wide in agreement, Jenna nodded. “I bet she definitely is! Okay, and then there’s the dance team…”

And she was off again, explaining character after character, rumor after rumor.

“Maybe I should join dance again,” Maylie joked. “Since you say that's a ticket to popularity.”

Jenna glared. “Anyway! The most popular person here is Lars Larsson.”

The name sounded familiar. “The one who has Instagram pics with babies?”

“Yeah, that one!” She swooned, her eyes sparkling. “He’s perfect, but untouchable. His parents are rich, but he's so down-to-earth and nice!”

“How do you know?” Saf interjected. “It's not like you've ever spoken to him.”

Jenna shoved her. “I watch from a distance, okay? And he volunteers at the local daycare. Anyone who works with kids must be down-to-earth!”

“So why is he untouchable?” Maylie asked.

“He's polite and all, but I heard he's not really close to anyone at school,” she said. “Like, he hangs out with the popular kids but he isn't really friends with any of them. So many girls have tried to ask him out, but he doesn't even acknowledge them! It's like the whole world is invisible to him.”

“Isn't that rude?”

“It's not like he's ignoring them,” Saf added. “He just doesn't bother with the drama. Our school is a tornado, and he's the eye. Anyone who tries to get near him is ripped to shreds by the rest of the storm.”

“Oh,” said Maylie. She wondered who he was, that he could have such an influence on the social sphere.

“You're Wasian, aren't you?” Jenna said, and Saf hit her.

“You can't just ask people what race they are!”

Jenna stared at Maylie expectantly. “You're a halfie, right?”

Maylie nodded, and Jenna clapped. “That's already one thing you have in common with Lars! He's half Korean and half Danish.”

Maylie laughed. “Well, I'm neither of those.”

“Shh! No one needs to know!” She rubbed her hands together ominously. “We're one step closer to stealing Lars!”

“Stop imagining things,” Saf sighed. “Do you know how much drama we'd have to deal with if you so much as looked at him?”

Jenna shrugged, picking at her fashionably oversized white t-shirt. “Worth it.”


	3. blues and the boba shop

“This way,” said the secretary, but Maylie was already moving. The family therapy room was just as falsely cheerful as ever, the cartoon landscape walls out of place with their simplicity. Amelie and their parents were already there, each with their arms crossed and staring anywhere but at each other.

“Why don't we start?” said the therapist in a pleasant voice. “Any thoughts on the discussion questions from last time?”

Amelie stared unblinkingly at the far wall, and Mrs. Yang sniffed, pulling a travel pack of tissues out of her purse.

Mr. Yang straightened his posture. “Maylie?”

Maylie sighed. It seemed that again, she was the only member of her family who had prepared a response. “Last time you asked us to consider what we’re thankful for, so I thought about it and I’m thankful for everything, even this. It might not be ideal right now, but we’re all learning and growing stronger.”

In the orange armchair, the therapist nodded, pen scratching away notes on the neon plastic clipboard. “Good, good,” she said absently. “Would you like to elaborate on something specific?”

“Alright,” said Maylie, and elaborated, although the faint sound of the therapist’s pen quietly violated her thoughts. When she finished her part, and another family member was given the responsibility to talk, she wasn’t surprised at all to know that none of them had anything to say. Her mother had been too hysterical to even think of such matters; her father didn’t believe in therapy; and her sister would rather have died, literally. Only the facility’s strict watch prevented Amelie from attempting again, and even so, she never stopped trying.

The therapist smiled, and kept smiling as genuinely as a robot throughout the entire strained family meeting. Then she split the family into groups for one-on-one mediation.

Mr. and Mrs. Yang were shooed into a separate room— probably to watch the two sisters from a hidden camera— and Maylie found herself alone with Amelie, whose gaze had never once wavered from the painted smiling sun on the wall.

“You can talk,” said Maylie meekly, preparing herself for any possible response from silence to violent explosion. “I know you have something to say.”

“I have nothing else to say!” Amelie snapped, then turned away again, realizing she’d broken her resolve not to speak. Maylie didn’t respond, and eventually Amelie caved in. “I hate mom and dad,” she began, then out came tumbling all the grievances and thoughts she’d been storing since their last sisterly bonding. “If they really cared, they would try.”

“They do try,” said Maylie. “Maybe not enough, but they did sell the house and move us here just for you.”

Her sister grumbled. “They don’t bring anything to discussion. When they visit all they do is lecture and ask the same questions. ‘When will you come back to reality?’ ‘I hope you’re taking showers. And dry your hair before you sleep.’ ‘We’re not paying all this money for you to goof off.’ Ugh,” Amelie spat. “I’m sure they’d be happier if I had died that time.”

“Don’t say that!” Maylie’s fingernails dug into the sides of her hard chair, and she sat up, trying to smile. “Hey, guess what, Amelie? I got a job at a boba place! Once I save up enough I’ll take us to see Les Mis in San Francisco!” She tilted her head. “How ‘bout that?”

Amelie scowled, her expression hardening. “Stop trying to be the better person,” she said, her voice low. “Maybe if you hadn't kept trying to outshine me, I wouldn't be in here.”

 

She was lost again the next morning. After two days of wandering from class to class, she thought she’d at least have figured out the general direction to go, but again she realized she’d somehow wandered in the exact opposite direction she was meant to go.

A familiar stumbling figure caught her eye at the other end of the hall, and her hopes lifted. She recalled from her first day that Joseph was in her first class, AP Calc, so she went to him. Quickly, though, she realized he likely wouldn’t be much help today, either. From a yard away he stank of liquor, and he smiled lazily when he saw her. 

“Are you the angel?” he said, and stepped toward her. “The girl from yesterday?”

She nodded, stepping back. “You didn’t go to class, did you?”

“You told me not to,” he slurred, shaking his head adamantly. “But I went to see my dad. My dad hates me.”

“Oh,” said Maylie, not sure if she ought to comfort him. “How do I get to AP Calc?”

“AP Calc?” he said. “That’s my class!”

“I know. Where is it?”

“I know where it is,” he said, nodding. She considered telling him not to go again, but he was already stumbling off toward class, so she sighed and followed him. He couldn’t cause that much trouble in a class in which even the teacher slept. 

Maybe it was because of the erratic way he walked, but the plants in the hall were dangerously cluttered, ivy unkempt and cracked terracotta pots scattered in the middle of walkways. Joseph, with his blurry drunk vision, stepped on plants and soil instead of around them, his shoes scuffing up dirt and leaving dark prints on the cobbled ground. 

A large pot of daffodils stood in his path, a jagged crack running across the top, leaving a hole that zig-zagged like a lightning bolt to the bottom. The drunk boy didn’t see this, or much of anything else for that matter, so when Maylie called out his name to warn him, it was too late.

His bare ankle scraped into the pot, the jagged edges cutting into his skin. When Maylie reached him, he was bleeding, wincing and swearing.

“I’m bleeding.”

“I can see that,” she said, and rummaged around in her backpack for her first-aid kit. “Stop coming to school drunk.” 

“But high is okay?”

“High is not okay.” She kneeled down to his ankle, inspecting the cut. It was deep, and swam with dirt. She pulled out a disinfecting wipe, cleaned the wound, and stuck on a butterfly band-aid. She patted it in place. “There,” she said, and looked up. 

He had been awfully still for a person not in his right mind, and she realized he had been staring at her the whole time. It was an odd sort of entranced expression, as though he were both seeing her and not seeing her at once. She stood up, stuffing the first aid kit back into her bag. 

“Why do you carry that?” he asked.

“In case of situations like this,” she replied. Amelie had been like this too, at one point, injuries spotting all over her when she hadn’t cared to move out of the way of danger. 

Joseph nodded and lumbered on. He really was a lot like Amelie, she realized. The same dark eyes, the same indifference to injury. 

“I hate my dad,” Joseph said, conversationally. “He doesn’t care about me.”

The words sounded familiar.  _ “I hate Mom and Dad,”  _ Amelie had said. And then what else?  _ “Maybe if you hadn't kept trying to outshine me, I wouldn't be in here.” _

So it was her fault that her own sister overdosed? Her fists curled, her nails digging into her palm.

Joseph turned around, head tilting in that puppy-ish way. “Are you crying?”

“No,” she said, but he wasn’t fooled.

“I’m sorry you’re crying,” he said, the apology sounding odd with his goofy expression.

She kept walking. Of course he wasn’t like Amelie. Amelie wouldn’t have cared enough to apologize, or to even acknowledge the tears. 

“I’m sorry,” said Joseph again, and he reached out to wipe her tears. 

She shied away. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he said, trying again, and she squirmed. He clearly had good intentions, but the overpowering odor of liquor made her stomach turn.

“Maylie!” said a voice, a clear one untainted by alcohol. When she looked she saw her savior, the mysterious boy who found her again the third morning in a row.

Joseph waved. “Oh, hello, L—”

“What’s wrong?” the boy interrupted, looking between them. Maylie felt her tears sizzling on her cheeks.

“She’s crying,” Joseph said. “I think I made her cry.”

The boy stepped past him. “Didn’t I tell you that your habits hurt people around you, Joseph?” He gestured to Maylie. “I’ll take you to class from here.”

Nodding thankfully, she followed him, sniffing. “Will he be alright, though?”

The boy scowled. “He’s like that every day. Don’t worry about him.”

“Oh.”

As they walked silently through the halls and his secret passageways, amid the soft sun rays and chirping of birds, she finally felt at peace. The morning was crisp and bright, even indoors, and his affirming silence calmed her.

When they reached her class, her tears had stopped, the only reminder that they had fallen her still-damp cheeks. The boy stilled, and opened his arms with a cheerful smile. “You look like you need a hug, Maylie.”

The sound of her name on his tongue was refreshing, like clear water from a brook. Heart pattering, she laughed and he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her toes. His bear hug was like a massage and a warm bath all at once, a faint floral scent hovering on his clothes. 

He let her go after what felt like a single moment, her breath catching in surprise. 

“I never told you my name,” she realized.

His smile was intoxicating. “You were wearing a nametag, dummy.” He ruffled her hair and she started to feel as though she were five years old. He glanced in the direction of the door. “Go to class.”

She nodded eagerly, the smile still stuck on her face. It wasn’t until she closed the door behind her that she realized she’d forgotten to ask for his name in return.

 

“I’ve always wanted to do Halloween in a group of three,” Jenna gushed, doodling notes on her napkin. Flower Tea Cafe was bustling, business booming even in the first week of opening. Jenna sipped at her milk tea, sighing in contentment, while Saf stirred her straw suspiciously, peering at the mound of black pearls at the bottom.

“They're edible, don't worry,” Maylie reassured her.

Jenna glanced behind her. In a low voice, she hissed, “Your boss is staring again.” She shivered. “It's creeping me out.”

Maylie brushed off her work shirt. “He probably wants me to stop goofing off,” she said. “Excuse me.” To her boss, she called, “I'll get to work right away!” Nodding to her friends, she said, “Sorry. Brainstorm ideas and I’ll give my input when I come back!”

She hurried back behind the counter, tightening her ponytail. “Yes, Gavin?”

“I didn’t hire you to talk.”

“Sorry.”

“Start a new batch of pearls.”

“Okay.”

“And—” He stepped closer to her, and she tried not to stare at his thin, patchy mustache. “Half of our appeal is visual.” He pointed at her hair. “Fix it.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Untuck it. Fix the bangs.”

“Oh.” She did as he said, and clasped her hands behind her back. “Better?”

He stared. “Fine. Go.”

Maylie nodded. “Yessir. I’ll get the pearls ready.”

Once she did that, and manned the register, and prepared several batches of popcorn chicken, and whatever else Gavin wanted her services for, she finally had time to go back to her friends.

“I don't like these black balls,” said Saf.

“That's not what you said last time,” said Jenna. “Oh, Maylie, you’re here!”

“Did you come up with any good Halloween ideas?” 

“No,” said Saf, as Jenna said, “Yes! Sugar, salt, and spice!”

“No,” said Saf.

“Mild, medium, hot. Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

“I like that one,” said Saf. “Your idea, so you can come up with the costumes.”

Jenna gasped. “Wait, I take that one back!”

“But it’s the Trinity.” Saf batted her lashes innocently. “The one true trio.”

“Saffy, please! I was just saying it! Why don’t we do Totally Spies?”

She shrugged. “There’s no black one.”

“Harry Potter trio!”

Saf grinned. “I like that! I’ll be black Hermione. You two can be the boys.”

Jenna clapped her hands over her mouth. “I should stop talking.”

Maylie was holding back laughter. “So I see you haven’t made much progress then.”

Jenna sulked for two seconds, then sprang up again. “Did you hear that Lacey Castello is hosting a house party tonight?” She tsked, shaking her head. “People are sneaking in beer. Do her parents know?!”

“So?” Saf said. “Parties happen all the time.”

“All the popular kids are going!” Jenna whispered. “Even Laurie!”

“Doesn’t she have Science Olympiad or something better to do?”

“You know she has to keep her queen bee image! Even A-listers go to B-list parties sometimes.” She turned to Maylie. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t get poached by her? Now you don’t have to go to that dumb party!”

“Oh,” said Maylie. “Do all the popular kids go to parties?”

“Pretty much,” said Saf. “All except Lars Larson.”

Jenna swooned. “I told you he’s perfect!”

“You and everyone else,” Saf sighed. “I’m worried for your future. Just wait until he gets a girlfriend.”

“He’s not,” Jenna said, flipping her short hair.

“A boyfriend, then.”

“He won’t!”

“He will,” Saf said. “Then what will you do? ‘Oh, I should have stared at him from a distance more intensely!’ Please.”

“Hmph,” she fumed. “We’ll be dating by the end of the year.”

Saf still cackled. “Yeah, sure, but not each other.”

“I still don’t know who this Lars Larson is,” Maylie interrupted.

“He’s beautiful,” said Jenna.

Saf just rolled her eyes and smiled.


	4. dogs and disillusion

She noticed at once that something was off about Joseph Rosario. After stealing glances at him between calculus problems, she realized that what was odd about him was that he seemed completely ordinary. He was in class today, awake and alert. He seemed to be working on his classwork in complete diligence, his eyes never leaving his paper once each time she snuck a look at him. She wondered if he even remembered who she was now that he was in his right state of mind.

“If we work on the project together, does it count for all of us?” Jenna wondered. “I’d rather not do a whole short film by myself in addition to helping with yours.”

Saf scoffed. “You mean you’d rather freeload off of our projects.”

“Well, duh. I also have to practice for my solo piece. When would I have time to plan, script, storyboard, film, and edit?”

“You’re the one who signed up for a major and a minor.”

“Well, Rajanathan could go easy on me at least.”

“What project?” Maylie said.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Jenna shut her compact BB cushion and looked at her with dramatic sympathy. “Each semester you have to complete a big project for your major or minor. Minor projects are usually lighter than those for majors, but it curdles me anyway.”

“What’s the project?”

“For film majors you have to film a five minute short film and have each step in the process approved by Overlady Rajanathan.”

“Overlady?”

“She means the film teacher,” Saf said, doodling in the margins of her classwork. She’d finished all the problems five minutes into class.

“I love ‘er like a mother but I think she forgets we’re high school students with our futures on our plates, not future professionals at film school.” She paused. “Well, most of us. There are indeed some future filmmakers among us. Psh. Nerds.”

“What right do you have to call other people nerds?” Saf said, not looking up from her sketch of a wrap dress.

“Shh! We don’t need to let the new girl know about that yet!”

“She already knows you’re a loser.”

Jenna looked at Maylie earnestly. “Don’t listen to her. I’m the coolest person at school.”

“Hey, twitterbirds,” an oily voice cut across the room. Laurie lifted her headphones off her ears, glaring at them. “Will you shut it? Some of us are trying to learn.”

Jenna hopped out of her chair. “How dare you! First you try to steal my friend, my friend that I grew myself, and then you try to silence me? H-hey—” Saf caught her sleeve, dragging her back into her seat. “I won’t be silenced!” Jenna declared, still struggling against Saf’s pull. “Saf!” she whined. 

Laurie wrinkled her nose and replaced her headphones. 

“Twitterbirds,” Jenna mocked. “How rude!”

“You  _ are  _ a twitterbird,” Saf said.

“How rude! Maylie, defend me.”

“Uh—”

Saf nudged Maylie. “Ignore her.”

“Oh.”

“By the way,” she said, “Joseph Rosario’s been staring at you all class.”

Maylie turned to peer at him. “Has he?”

“He has. Each time you look over he pretends he’s working. Trust me, he’s not working.”

“Oh.”

Jenna leaned over, her eyes sparkling and chin in her palms. She looked like a child posing for cutesy photos. “What about Joseph and Maylie?”

“He’s usually drunk or high, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Usually both,” said Saf.

Maylie lowered her voice. “I ran into him in the mornings twice, but I don't think he would remember.”

“Were you nice to him?” Saf said. “That explains it.”

Jenna twittered, “Don’t you know boys like Joseph will fall in love with anyone who is a little bit nice to them? Well, actually, I always thought Joseph was too cool for that, but I guess I was wrong. Or maybe I wasn’t wrong. Maybe he’s finally realizing there’s a new kid in class!”

“Plausible,” said Saf.

“I think so. This is the first time he’s been sober in class. Imagine being in a dream for a week then waking up and finding out a cute new girl is in your AP Calc class!” Jenna nodded, agreeing with herself. “I’d stare.”

Maylie glanced back at Joseph. He seemed to have showered, and his clothes weren't obviously dirty like they were before. His gaze never left his paper, but with his left hand he reached up and mussed his hair.

“See, he knows you're looking,” Saf whispered.

“Oh,” said Maylie, again, and let it be, until AP Literature came around and she found herself reaching for the door handle at the same time as him.

They both drew back at once, Maylie averting her gaze and clasping her hands behind her back. Joseph reached for the door again, and held it open for her.

She thanked him, and he said, “It's the least I can do.”

She stopped there in the doorway. “You remember?”

He rubbed his brows. “I didn't make a good first impression, huh? I'm sorry; I'm a mess.”

She liked his demeanor now that he was clear-headed. He adjusted his wrinkled button-up as they walked to their seats, tugging at the hem as if the crinkles would magically go away. When Maylie took her spot at the front next to Laurie, Joseph hesitated for a moment by her desk before moving on to the back corner.

Class started not long after, and the students were split into their Lit Circle groups. As they moved their desks into circles, Joseph nearly sprinted across the room, stubbing his toe on a bookcase in his attempt to plant his desk next to Maylie’s. She bent to look for a pen, hiding her amusement.

“Did you find a copy of  _ Hamlet _ ?” Laurie said to her once they settled, examining her nails.

“Yes,” said Maylie, and brought out the thick little tome she'd salvaged from a used bookstore. Her pride for that small achievement was quickly forgotten when Laurie dumped her next task on her.

“Now that you're on the same page as the rest of us, I expect you can do your part for Lit Circles?”

“Of course! Um, what should I do?”

“Discussion Director,” said Laurie. “It's the most important role in the group, but you'll be able to handle it,  right?” She handed Maylie a packet of worksheets. “Your part for next class is on top. The rest is for your future roles. Oh, and I'm sure I don't have to remind you, but in order to invent appropriately challenging discussion questions, you'll need to have a complete knowledge of the play so far. No SparkNotes!” Laurie smiled. “Can we count on you?”

Maylie eyed her copy of  _ Hamlet _ . The class was more than halfway through the work already… thinking about how many hours it would take to catch up by next class made her stomach wither. “Yeah,” she said, already feeling incompetent.

“Good!” Laurie clapped her hands together. “Let’s start today's discussion. I want full participation from everyone— full marks for our group or I will find you and personally slash your tires— understood?” She glared at the others. “Ah, and this includes you, newbie— you did take my advice to catch up, didn't you?”

“Uh—”

Laurie sighed. “I suppose not.” Her attention shifted, and she threw an eraser at Joseph’s head. “You. Jason. Did you even look at the assigned reading?”

He blinked. “My name’s not—”

“Your name isn't relevant to me until you become relevant,” she said. “I'll let Whitney know not to base my grade on yours. Who wants to share first?” 

Neither Abhiram nor Dmitriya volunteered.

 

“Not the book, not the book!” Maylie yelped, tugging back on the harness. Frankie the bull terrier mix’s claws made pattering sounds on the wood floor as he scrabbled for footing, his wet nose stretching out to sniff  _ Hamlet.  _ Holding him by the collar with one hand, she picked up the book and held it high above her head. “You can get your slobber on anything but this, okay?”

She shoved the book on top of the wall of cages, out of his reach. “Time for your bath, Frankie!”

Upon hearing the word, the dog’s excited bounces turned into pleading whimpers as he tried to burrow into a corner of the room and hid his snout under his oversized paws. 

Maylie sighed. “Frankie. Let’s go.”

The dog whined.

Checking her phone, she mentally calculated how much time she’d have left to read after finishing his bath. “Up.” She tugged up on his collar, practically dragging him out of the room as he resisted and whined in the most pitiful way he could.

While dragging him to the bathroom, her coworkers exchanged apologetic looks with her. “I remember  _ my _ hazing as a new volunteer,” said Martha the retired accountant, shuddering. 

Frankie struggled the whole time she bathed him. When they emerged again, Frankie was glistening and fresh-smelling, while Maylie was soaked through and speckled with suds. 

She released Frankie into the playroom to dry off and reported to her boss. Marty Hunter, PhD, was the real-life, female incarnation of the thugs from  _ Tangled _ , the kind of woman who wore leather jackets in all weather and rode a motorcycle every day to her job at a branch of the Humane Society. 

“Anything else I can do?” Maylie said.

“Did you wash all the dogs on the list?”

“Yeah. The little dogs weren’t so bad but Frankie made a mess.”

“Frankie’s a fighter,” she said, nodding her approval. “Oh, yeah! You won’t have to worry about Frankie anymore. A family called about adopting him in a couple days.”

“Really? He was starting to grow on me.”

“He’ll love having a family,” she said. “Oh, can you clean out the litter boxes? The room’s starting to stink.”

Maylie was glad for a less stressful task. She retrieved her book from the kennel room and slipped a latex glove on her left hand. She chipped away at Act II Scene 3 while she shoveled cat litter, and finished Act III as she brushed out the fur of a particularly furry tomcat. 

When the animal shelter closed for the day, Maylie took the animals in the playroom back to their kennels. Frankie shrank away when she tried to call him over until she offered treats as collateral. By the time she put him back in his kennel, he seemed to have forgotten the horrors of the bath earlier and licked her hands all over as she tried to close the door on him. 

“How many hours did you put in today?” Marty called from the hall. 

“Three,” said Maylie, wiping her hands with paper towels. “I don’t need to turn in my service hour forms until the end, though.”

She stuffed her book in her backpack and went to the lobby to sign herself out. 

“Don’t forget to sign out!” said Marty from the staff room.

“Already did!”

“Get home safely!”

Maylie smiled. The dim light that shone into the lobby from the back rooms made obvious the layers of light fur stuck to her black leggings. She would have fun getting all that off at home. The streetlights outside didn’t illuminate the street much, but Maylie didn’t worry. At the bottom of her backpack, jangling with her house key and mini Swiss Army knife was a yellow can of pepper spray that her sister had bought for her a year ago, way before they moved here.

She passed by Marty’s monster motorbike as she left the animal shelter and hurried home. The faster she arrived, the more time she’d have to finish her reading. She could start on the worksheets tomorrow.

 

“Hey,” said Joseph, tapping her on the shoulder. He waved, though he was standing two feet away from her.

“Hi!” she said. “How are you?”

“Are you going to class?”

“Yeah. Oh, Joseph, could you help me? I still don’t know where Y115 is.”

His grin grew. “Yeah, totally! This way!” He took off, his long legs making big strides, until he caught his foot on a loop of ivy and nearly tripped. 

Maylie tried to hide her laughter. “I guess you’re clumsy when sober, too.”

His face turned pink. “Well, not usually.” Then he stepped on his laces, and stumbled again.

This time she couldn’t help but giggle. “Are you okay?”

He wouldn’t look at her. “Yeah, um, I should tie my shoes.”

When he started walking again, he stared at the ground, making absolutely sure he stepped carefully around possible obstacles. 

“Hey,” he said, awkwardly, “What did the tree nut say when it sneezed?”

“Uh,” she said, “What did it say?”

“Ca-shew!”

She stared at him for a moment, then cracked up. 

“Why do people wear shamrocks on St. Patrick’s Day?” he said, his confidence boosted.

“Why?”

“Because real rocks are too heavy.” He watched her for her reaction, a smile tugging at his lips.

She was nearly crying. “These are so corny!”

“But you’re laughing.”

“Do you have more?”

“I forgot the rest,” he said. 

They neared a T in the hall, and Maylie saw the boy walking from the other direction, dressed like a model as always.

He saw her just as she saw him and frowned when he noticed who she was with. “Is he bothering you again?”

Maylie glanced up at Joseph, who shoved his hands in his pockets. “He’s sober today.”

The boy punched Joseph playfully on his arm. “Keep it up, then.”

Joseph looked away. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“I can take you from here, Maylie,” the boy said. “Since we’re in the same class.” He patted Joseph on the back and turned the corner without waiting.

“Okay,” said Maylie. She jogged to catch up, waving back at Joseph. “Thanks for showing me the way.”

Joseph waved back.

“Y115 is just further down this way,” said the boy. “I see you still haven’t figured out the botanical code.”

“Is that really a thing? No one else said anything about it.”

“It’s just as much a thing as the secret corridors,” he said. His hand trailed against the ivy on the walls, disturbing dust so that the sunny air swam with floating specks. “I’d teach you, but the magic is in the discovery.”

No wonder he majored in film, she thought. His world was one of fantasy, and in walking with him, she’d unknowingly stepped into it.

“By the way,” she said, “What is your name?”

A part of her didn’t want to know. With no name, he could be more of a story. But with a name… he’d be grounded. He’d be real.

“Oh,” he said, rubbing his neck. “Did I never introduce myself?” He held out his hand. “I’m Taehyun. But most people call me Lars.” 

She stopped. Lars.  _ Our school is a tornado, and he's the eye.  _

“Lars Larsson,” she said.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me!” His hand was still, there, outstretched, waiting.

_ Anyone who tries to get near him is ripped to shreds.  _ She didn’t shake it.

He was still smiling, although uncertainly. “And you’re Maylie.” His hand wavered.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I think… I think I can find my way to class myself.” She stepped back, her heel disturbing a pot of carnations, and fled.


	5. autumn leaves and grape snow boba

Maylie, like everyone else, had her own idea of how yin and yang manifested in the world. For some, it was the physical black and white of giant pandas, or the gentle tide and crushing wave of the ocean; for her it was ballet. The moment she entered the dance studio, the marrow of her bones would fill with the confidence and fear, the beauty and pain.

She had a routine in ballet, the same sequence of steps that carried over from her previous life. She'd set down her duffel, slip off her outerwear, pull off her shoes, and fit her feet into her worn pink ballet slippers, the satin soft and silky, with frayed holes emerging here and there with gray understuffing.

But this wasn't her studio. This wasn't the one framed with trophies she'd helped win and photos she'd posed in with faces she knew; this was the new Dance Studio #3 at Vineyard, with floors that shone and mirrors without stains and barres so fresh she feared splinters. This wasn't her seasoned team practicing; it was a gaggle of beginning students who didn't know ballet and didn't know her.

When she finished with her slippers and stood, the pain on her toes shot through her like a continuous current of lightning. Beneath the soft satin of her shoes were injured feet, bleeding and bruised and yellow.

That was her yin and yang. The pain of practice against the beauty of performance, the routine against the strangeness.

In ballet class, Maylie liked to think. She didn't really know what else to do while her classmates learned and grew and corrected. Her movements were drilled, a mindless automation of the steps she knew like a native language. Sometimes she offered her help, or stared into the mirror, or imagined what the room would looked like if it were a little older and a little more homey.

Today her head spun with her pirouettes, trying to connect the pieces of two separate people, and realized that the parts all fit together perfectly. The more she considered, the more she wondered how she had not realized— the savior boy, the angel boy; the kid enthusiast, the plant enthusiast; the stories, the reality. And when she saw him the first time, saw the shape of his lips and the color of his hair and the depth and curve of his eyes— when she saw him and and saw herself, it wasn't imagination. They really were the same kind of different— him Korean and her Chinese, him Danish and her German— they were unalike but united. The same kind of mix in the DNA that only existed rarely in the world, that put them in a shared chimera culture that nobody but them would know.

And yet...  _the savior boy_ , with all his magic mysticism, was real. Lars Larson was a story. A warning.

The savior boy belonged to her. Lars belonged to the world.

* * *

 On her walk home, the leaves were falling, bright fiery snowflakes drifting lazily to the ground. The world was slowly burning and she stomped out the fires as they hit the ground, satisfying crunches signalling the snuffing of a flame. She left fresher leaves for others to enjoy, their menagerie of crimson and goldenrod and rich, blended yellow lighting up the sidewalk. The tree trunks were dusty browns; the sky was dragon's-breath gray; and she said to herself, "If Lars Larson is a storm, I don't see it. All I see is calm."

The storm hit at home.

"Yes?" said her mother, after three rings on the phone.

"Laura?" said her father, when her mother turned white.

"Not this time, please," thought Maylie with a clenched throat as the car shot through the night.

This ICU was in a different city, in a different hospital complex, but the worry and anxiety was all the same. She couldn't tell if she was in the present or two months ago, in the midst of autumn or the tail of summer. The waiting swallowed her again.

"She tried to suffocate herself with a noose made of bedsheets," said the nurse, reading from a garishly green clipboard.

Maylie imagined it, and her stomach tightened. Last time it was pills.

"How bad is it?"

"She managed to stop breathing for long enough to go unconscious," the nurse said. "We don't suspect there will be brain damage, but she may have bruising and burns around the neck for a while. Has she been regularly taking antidepressants and..."

Maylie tuned out. Her inner alarm system was going off so loud it was painful to focus on anything else. In place of sirens and bells was her sister's voice, repeating that sentence from the family therapy session again and again.

Last time it was pills. This time it was Amelie's own sister.

* * *

 "You called?" said Jenna, waving her phone with Maylie's text on it. She looked conspicuously like a mushroom today, albeit a rather cute one, with her giant latte-colored hoodie and white skinny jeans. Even her shoes, a pair of green-accented sneakers, were reminiscent of grass.

Maylie wasn't quite in the mood to talk, though, and nodded. "Yeah, sorry. Lead the way?"

"No need to say sorry," Jenna chirped, and hooked her arm with Maylie's. On their walk to Calculus, Jenna rattled on and on about celebrity gossip, and Maylie tried her best to listen. But she didn't feel much engaged, just as she hadn't felt in the mood to attempt to wander the maze today. Her thoughts kept wandering to a room in the hospital, to a smiling office in a frowning building, a living room in an apartment she hardly knew.

After Jenna asked Maylie a fifth question that went unanswered, she finally noticed something was different today about her usually attentive listener. "Is something wrong?"

Maylie was startled. "No. Nothing's wrong, I swear." She smiled, trying to think of something to say, and finally blurted, "Your outfit is so cute! Where did you get it?"

"Really?" Jenna grinned, elated. "You think so? I've been stalking Pinterest for ideas and I was really going for the K-idol kinda style...." and on she went.

Jenna's genuine kind of excitement was contagious, and soon Maylie was smiling too, her earlier thoughts tucked away inside a box in the back of her head.

However, it all came back once she was in class, when she had a blank worksheet in front of her and the relative silence of scratching pencils and shuffling papers her only distractions.

She kept nodding off—she would stare at the first problem, trying to connect the symbols on the paper with the ones she'd etched into her brain, but some kind of fog was there, clouding her thoughts and sight and circuits. After about the tenth time, she looked up, trying to set her head straight. She glanced at Mr. Schwartz, with his mouth open and snoring, and promptly lost her will to keep wrestling with integrals. Sleep looked so nice... She folded her arms and laid down her head to nap.

Her friends woke her up at the bell, but her fog hadn't cleared at all. Jenna led her to her next class—without prompting, this time—while Saf trailed along curiously.

The moment she reached her seat in Literature, Joseph came huffing and puffing to her desk, his face flushed and splotchy like he was drunk, presenting her with a chocolate bar.

"You looked sad," he said.

"Did I?" She took it, smiling at him. "Thanks. Did you just buy this?"

He jumped. "No! I just happened to have it in my bag. And I don't really like chocolate, so I'm giving it to you."

She thought that he probably still bought it from a vending machine, but she decided to accept his explanation. "Oh. Thank you, still."

* * *

 By the time she went to lunch, she'd mostly woken up. She still didn't feel much like talking, though, so she just watched fondly as her two friends (Jenna, mostly) carried the lunch conversation.

"I signed up to volunteer for the elementary school Halloween carnival," said Jenna. "And I signed you two up, too, so no need to worry."

"How dare you," said Saf.

"Please. We all know adding a few more service hours to our college apps won't hurt."

"I have one hundred fifty-seven."

"And one hundred sixty-nine is even better. Anyway, we get to wear costumes there, too, so after that we can take cute Instagram pics! And," she added in a whisper, "I heard Lars Larson signed up too! He's doing video coverage of the event!" She swooned. "I can't wait to see him playing with the kids! It'll be so adorable!"

"Good luck watching him  _and_  working."

"Lars," said Maylie. "Isn't his real name Taehyun?"

Jenna nodded vigorously. "Yeah! You heard? So cute! Like a K-pop idol! Or K-drama star! Most people just call him Lars though, because it's easier to pronounce, and I totally feel him! That's why I took an English name when I moved here, because no one knew how to pronounce Jiayi."

"I can pronounce it," Saf retorted.

"Only 'cause I've been teaching you for five years."

* * *

 After school, she had a shift at Flower Tea, and Jenna and Saf tagged along. They said it was to brainstorm more Halloween ideas, but they didn't seem to do much talking while she worked. They whispered to each other occasionally, staring at Maylie, and waved enthusiastically whenever she looked over.

When she caught a break, she said to them, "You've been acting strangely. Did I do something?"

"What do you mean  _we're_  acting strangely?" Jenna said. "You're the one who has been moping around all day."

"You noticed?" She sighed. "I'm sorry if I worried you. I'm fine. You can go back to discussing Halloween."

"Girl, you're sure as heck not fine," Saf retorted. "Don't you know what friends are for?"

"Free ears for listening, free arms for hugging, and free discounts at their places of employment," Jenna recited, proud of herself.

"Exactly," said Saf. "Unfortunately, neither of us can offer discounts at the moment, but we do still have ears and arms to offer."

"Thanks," Maylie said, "but I swear I'm fine. Just a little tired, that's all."

Jenna scoffed. "Well, alright, but just remember that we got you. Ears, arms, and discounts, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled, and went back to behind the counter. "I love you guys."

Jenna blew her a kiss, and Saf winked. Maylie was glad when they seemed to go back to animated conversation. From the snippets she heard over the rumble of the coffee grinder, she could tell that costumes seemed to be the topic of conversation again.

Today, only she and Gavin were working. In fact, this had been the case for nearly every day she'd been to work so far. Gavin was manning the rolled ice cream station at the moment, drawing a small crowd to watch the rolling in action. Maylie had to admit the rolling looked quite cool, but mostly she was glad that Gavin was too busy to boss her around and tell her to do things she already knew to do.

A customer by the register caught her eye. The lady, who seemed to be an elderly grandma with a cloud of permed black hair, squinted at one of the menus, a magnifying glass in her spotted hand.

"Hi, welcome to Flower Tea, how can I help you?" Maylie said, smiling her brightest customer service smile. The grandma squinted further at the menu, and pointed at one of the items. Maylie got the feeling she didn't understand English, so she asked, "Zhongwen?"  _Chinese?_

The lady nodded, and quickly spoke in Mandarin, "You can speak Chinese? You don't look Chinese!"

Maylie assured her she could. "What would you like to order?"

"I'm getting drinks for my grandson; do you know what is good—"

"Excuse me," butted in a greasy voice. Maylie was nearly shoved out of the way, and Gavin hissed in English, "You should let me know when there's a Chinese-speaking customer! Move. I'll handle this."

"I can speak Chinese, too," she said, but Gavin ignored her.

"Sorry," he said to the lady. "Now what do you want to order?"

Miffed, she let Gavin alone, and looked over at his rolled ice cream station. Half-made rolls were left on the cold working surface, the tops already starting to melt. She knew Gavin would blame her for having to redo the rolls as soon as he finished taking the order.

A squeal pierced the air. Jenna, hyperventilating, clapped a hand over her mouth and stared at the door, her eyes nearly popping out of her skull. The bells hanging over the door chimed as it opened and Lars Larson entered the cafe. Maylie's heart skipped a beat, and she wondered how Jenna might react if Lars decided to say hi to Maylie.

Gavin tapped Maylie's shoulder. "Let me know  _immediately_  when a customer only speaks Chinese, okay?"

"I know how to take orders in Chinese, Gavin."

He rolled his eyes. "Your incompetence made me have to start over on someone else's order. Just do as I tell you."

She doubted that it was her fault, but she sucked it up and replied, "I'll ask you next time. Another customer is waiting." She took her spot at the register again, reminding herself to smile. "Hi, welcome to Flower Tea—"

The words died in her throat as soon as she caught the customer's eyes. "Hi, Maylie," he said, and she found herself reliving their last conversation.

"Hi, Taehyun," she blurted, then realized she'd used the wrong name. "I mean, Lars."

"I like Taehyun better," he said, still staring at her.

She fidgeted. "So, uh, what did you want to order?"

"Oh, right, um—" He searched the menu, and said, "Number seventeen."

"The grape snow with pearls?"

"Yeah, that."

"Regular or super-size?"

"Yes."

She blinked. "Yes as in super-size?"

"Uh... yes."

"Okay," she said, and entered his order. When she handed him his receipt, he stared at it with wide eyes. "Your order number is at the bottom," she told him, assuming that was what he was looking for.

"Thanks," he said, and hastily shoved it in his pocket and went to find a seat.

Maylie looked at her friends, who were still staring. " _Lucky_ ," Jenna mouthed, pouting.

Even Saf was intrigued.

"Do you know him?" Gavin asked, noticing the atmosphere had changed.

"He goes to my school," she replied, and went to work making the drinks, starting with the Chinese grandma's order. By the time she called out his order, he was typing so furiously away on his laptop that she had to repeat herself twice, and finally deliver his drink  _to_  him. "Your grape snow," she said, placing it in front of him.

He looked up, bewildered. "Huh?"

"Your drink?"

"Oh." He glanced at it. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied, and went back.

"Hey, wait," he called, just as she was turning. "Um—may I borrow a pen?"

"A pen?"

He nodded.

"Okay," she said, though she noticed he had no paper in front of him, and fished one out from a drawer for him. When she finally left him, he pushed the drink aside, and went back to whatever he was working on.

Jenna, two tables over, beckoned furiously.

"What?" said Maylie.

"What do you mean,  _what_?" Jenna hissed. "You just talked to Lars Larson!"

"Yeah, 'cause he's a customer," Maylie replied. "Do you wanna work here?"

" _Work_ ," Jenna repeated, repulsed. "No. But next time you have a chance, please refer him to me! Like, 'See that beautiful amazing gorgeous girl over there? Her name is Jenna and I think you two would make a perfect couple!' Like that."

"Hah," said Saf. "Good one."

"Uh, excuse me, Saf," Jenna bit out, "But how would you like it if I assumed everything you say is a joke?"

"Do you not already?"

"That's beside the point. I am  _serious_ , Maylie, and I think as a friend I deserve a little support."

Saf shook her head silently, mouthing, "Don't do it," in Maylie's direction.

"I saw that."

"Saw what?"

"Saffron Hayes,  _ni zhenshi_ *—!"

* * *

 * _Mandarin. Translation: literally, you really are. figuratively— I can't believe you!/I swear!_


	6. hot like chicken

"And a reminder, to those of you who need reminding," said Ms. Rajanathan. "The semester ends in eight weeks. That means twenty class periods. Twenty class periods for you to work on and  _complete_ your semester projects."

Laurie stuck her hand up in the air. "Ms. R, I've already finished mine. When can I get you to look over it?"

"We'll discuss that later, Laurel," she said, crossing her arms. The sequins hanging off the ends of her shawl twinkled. "And to the rest of you: follow her example. Always look for ways to improve your work. Don't be afraid to ask."

Jenna's eyes nearly rolled out of her head as she mimed Rajanathan's praise. "What a brat," she said, glaring at Laurie. "Eff you."

"When and where?" Laurie replied, without even glancing at Jenna, who scoffed in disbelief.

Meanwhile, Maylie realized with a start that she still had no idea what the project was even about.

The bell rang, and within two seconds, the classroom had emptied for break, but for her, Laurie, and Ms. Rajanathan. Laurie was in Rajanathan's face before Maylie even had time to stand up, monologuing about her project and the artistic measures she had taken to make it absolutely poignant and stunning. Maylie wished she would just get her point across so she could have her own turn. Which, if she'd gone first, would have been finished by now.

Finally, Laurie said, "I'll send you my film right away! Thank you so much for your time, Ms. R!" As she passed by Maylie, she said, "I'd feel sorry for you for not having started yet, but no one else has either, so you're not  _that_ behind."

Maylie yet again wasn't sure whether to be offended or relieved, so she just said, "Thanks," and went to ask Rajanathan about the project instructions.

* * *

Break was a period of twenty minutes between first and second block, in which students were free to eat, talk, work, or a myriad of other things as long as they didn't leave campus. By the time Maylie left the film classroom, she only had ten minutes left, and her stomach was sinking with the thought of all the work she had yet to do for her project. No wonder Laurie mentioned feeling sorry.

At this time, most of the students were already heading back to their next classes, which, for many of the film students, meant returning to the previous classroom. Maylie went to the nearest restroom in a hurry, wandering through the twisting halls until she finally found one. Once she finished, and started retracing her steps, she realized that she might have gotten lost again. The green walls looked similar enough that she wasn't sure whether she'd originally taken the turn with the heart-shaped ivy leaves or the star-shaped variety.

She did remember that the classroom was called Y115, and according to the botanical code, whatever it was, all the Y plants must have something in common. She doubted she'd make any useful breakthroughs in the three minutes and twenty-seven seconds until class began, but she let the mystery simmer on a back burner while she asked the remaining straggling students for directions and hurried her way back.

But just as she reached the final corridor, the usual suspect rounded the corner, running casually late. Maylie tensed, staring straight at the Y115 door, hoping he wouldn't notice her and turn her into gossip fodder again. No luck.

"Maylie!" he called, smiling and waving.

"Hi, Taehyun," she said, remembering he'd said he liked that name better. That day, when she went to throw away leftover trash, she'd also noticed his cup in the bin, melted and still completely full. "How are you?"

"I'm great!"

His enthusiasm made her laugh, and then she said, "Did you not like your drink?"

"My drink?"

"Yesterday, at Flower Tea. I saw you didn't drink it."

"Oh," he said. He stared at the ivy on the walls, twisting his hoodie strings between his fingers. "I guess I forgot, I guess. I was really busy working."

"Working on the semester project?" She kicked at a seed on the ground.

"No, uh, something else. But it's a secret." He grinned, winking.

"Oh, I see," she said, shaking her head at him. "What about that botanical code? Can you tell me more about that?"

"Nope. That's a secret, too. I can't help you there."

"Well, I was already planning on figuring it out," she said. "But seriously? No hints?"

"Good luck." He pulled open the door to the classroom, and suddenly she remembered why she hadn't wanted to be seen with him.

Maylie and Taehyun entered the classroom together, and the pre-bell chatter fell into a sudden hush. Laurie's dark eyes narrowed from behind her Warby Parker glasses. Saf's mouth was as round as her eyes, and Maylie didn't even want to consider what Jenna's reaction would be once she came back for third block.

Maylie quietly thanked Taehyun for holding the door for her, and took her seat next to Saf with her eyes focused firmly on the floor, hoping the attention would roll off her like raindrops on a waxy leaf.

Laurie leaned forward, uncomfortably close to her ear. "You're really bad at making smart choices."

"Fuck off," Saf whispered back, linking her arm with Maylie's protectively. Laurie smirked, reclining into her seat.

"The bell has rung," said Rajanathan, and clicked off the lights so that the only focus was her projected presentation. "We've already gone over  _Save the Cat_ and the structure of a typical Hollywood film, and today we're going to discuss it again!"

The class groaned faintly. Maylie wondered what that jumble of jargon even meant.

"But today is different! We'll have fun studying some famous screenplays and look at how each one embodies the  _Save the Cat_ outline!"

There were more groans, then Rajanathan split the class into random groups.

Saf was put with Samir, the lanky boy from last time, and a spiky-haired kid wearing a t-shirt with some obscure reference stitched on the breastpocket. Maylie was grouped with Tanner and Anna, of which neither name she could connect to a face.

Luckily, one of them recognized her. A familiar blonde waved her over, smiling through her braces. This was the girl Maylie remembered was with Laurie the other day, and realized that Jenna had mentioned her as Laurie's best friend.

"Hi!" Anna said, and after gushing about how cool was it to be a new student and did Maylie like it here at Vineyard so far, she introduced Maylie to the other member of their group, hesitating slightly. "This is Tanner."

Tanner's wan smile was framed by two silver teeth and his glistening pink face. He was the hyena boy, the one who spent each class roughhousing in the back row, whose beady eyes disappeared into the rest of his neckless face. "Lars Arse-son's new little girlfriend," he said, nodding. His arms folded into his Cowboys jersey.

"What?" Maylie said. "I'm not—"

"Don't be a creep." Anna shot him a look. "Cute girls aren't going to want to talk to you if you aren't nice." She typed something into her Macbook and opened the screenplay they were meant to analyze. "Maylie, hon, it's the last link on the class page."

"Oh." Maylie pulled her own battered computer out of her bag and followed Anna's instructions. Tanner chewed noisily on his gum, not bothering to move from his slouch. He kicked his legs up on the seat in front of him, just barely missing his other hyena friend's head.

The boy complained, and Tanner retorted, "Shut up, Calvin."

"Is he not going to work?" Maylie whispered to Anna.

Anna sighed. "He never does. Anyway, if he did anything, we'd be worse off, trust me."

"Hey, Bay Leaf," said Tanner, and paused to guffaw at his own joke. "Want me to teach you about the losers at this school?"

"Uh," she said. Somehow, she figured he wouldn't be as informative as Jenna. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Trust me, you'll wanna know." He kicked at Calvin's head. "You don't know how much of a psychopath Larsson is."

"Really."

"I saw you walking in with him. We all saw. You know he doesn't talk to anyone."

"He doesn't?"

"Oh, you poor thing," he said, and Maylie shivered. "Larsson is a filthy scumbag. Don't be surprised if the next time you talk to him you end up disassembled in a locked safe at the bottom of the bay. Just saying."

Her stomach turned.

"Don't listen to him," Anna said. "The real scumbag is him. Leave her alone, Tanner."

"I'm just warning her. They say the scariest ones are the ones you don't suspect."

"That's not what they say. Maylie, let's move seats."

She nodded.

"Sorry. He's just a bully. He feels untalented so he lashes out at others to feel better. Lars is one of the genuinely nicest people I know, so those accusations are unfounded. Although…" she glanced at the rest of the class. "Be careful, hon. There's a lot of tension surrounding him." She whispered, "The last girl who proposed to him had to move schools. I hear she has to go to therapy now— Oh my lord! We don't have much time left, sorry for talking so much, Maylie! I'll skim through the first two acts and you can do act three, is that okay?"

* * *

"Traitor!" was Jenna's first word when she saw Maylie. The bell for passing period had just barely rung, and she'd somehow apparated into the film classroom from AP Music Theory before the rest of them even registered that the bell had rung. "I can't believe I had to hear about this from a  _text_ , of all things, thank you Saf for the prompt news, by the way, but  _Maylie!_ Did you at least mention me to him?"

"It's not like we had an actual conversation," Maylie said, hugging her backpack. "I just asked him if he liked his drink yesterday!"

"You said 'we,'" Jenna accused. "Saf! She said 'we'! Not 'Lars and I,' ' _we'_!"

"Don't be a pedant," said Saf. "Laurie was pissed, though. I thought you'd like to hear it."

Jenna cackled. "Heeheehee," she said, unironically. "Serves her  _right_!"

"What did she ever do to you?"

"Maylie, innocent friend of mine, what hasn't she done?"

"That just means Jenna has a grudge for no reason," Saf translated.

"I promise I'll mention you next time I talk to him," Maylie said.

Jenna stamped her feet, pointing at her with wide eyes. "Did you hear that, Saf? She said 'next time.' She's new, and they're already on talking terms! Whereas I've been here for how long and—"

Saf laughed.

"What?"

"Sorry, this tweet—what were you saying? I wasn't listening."

"Guys," said Maylie, "Have you started on your semester projects yet?"

Jenna snorted. "Who do you think I am?"

"I have ideas," said Saf. "Haven't really started yet, though."

"Oh," said Maylie, "Because I'm really confused about everything."

"Wish I could help you, but I've got a lot of work to do."

"Same," said Jenna. "Curse my music teacher. You all think you have it hard? I have  _two_ semester projects to do!"

"Oh." Maylie sighed. "It's fine, then, I guess. I'll ask someone else."

"Yeah, anyway," said Jenna. "Did you hear…"

* * *

After school at Flower Tea, while working her shift, Maylie wondered how she should go about starting her project. Each time she brainstormed, though, her mind drifted off. She had no idea where to even start, or what she was supposed to do. She didn't want to bother Rajanathan again, and her two friends had already shot her down.

The bells over the door jingled, and Maylie glanced up from the chemistry textbook she stashed behind the cash register.

"Hi, Maylie" said the customer, and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I didn't know you were working today, too."

"Hi, Taehyun," she said, and absentmindedly patted her hair. "You must really like tea, huh?"

"Yeah, huh," he said, smiling awkwardly, and asked, "What do you recommend?"

"My favorite is the chrysanthemum tea," she said. "With aloe vera jelly."

"I'll have that," he said, and glanced at the textbook corner sticking out from behind the register. "What's that for?"

"AP Chem," she said. "Uh, here's your change."

"Thanks! Well, uh, I gotta go work on my homework for regular chem."

"Oh, good luck."

"Thanks."

When he turned, Maylie let out a huge sigh. She scanned the mostly-empty store, glad that no one else from school was here to make yet another fuss.

As she made the drink, she thought that it must be so easy for him to do the semester project; he was known as the most talented student in film! Obviously he wouldn't have any trouble understanding the cinematic jargon. As she scooped up aloe vera jelly and ice to dump in the cup, she realized that she very well could ask him for help.

As she poured in the tea, she told herself that there was no way she could. Her two other options had already been exhausted, but asking  _him_? No way.

When she called his name and handed him his drink, though, she blurted, "Uh… how's your semester project going?"

"I'm editing it right now actually!"

"Not doing chem?"

"Oh," he said. "That too, I guess. I get distracted really easily."

"You're really good at film stuff, aren't you?"

"Well, I'm not great, but I mean, I suppose."

Maylie knew she was making a bad decision either way, so she braced herself and asked, "Do you mind helping me out with my project a bit? I honestly have no idea what I'm doing."

"Yeah! Sure!" he said, and she wasn't sure if she heard correctly.

"Really?"

"Yeah, um—" he shifted his drink from hand to hand. "If you're not too busy right now I can go over it with you."

"Ohmygosh, thank you," she said, and added hastily, "I'm so sorry, your drink is probably super cold, huh? I'll add less ice next time." She wiped her hands on her work T-shirt.

He assured her it was no trouble, and went back to his table. Maylie took the next five minutes to make an order of rolled ice cream and destress. She found herself checking the door occasionally, like Jenna or Saf or Laurie would pop in at any moment and catch her in the act. In the act of… she didn't really know what it was that she was doing, but she knew that a fuss would be made anyway, if one of them or anyone found out.

So she had to take three deep breaths before she walked over to Taehyun, three breaths to steady herself and to make herself think straight. She brought a plate of popcorn chicken over with her and felt like the heat of a stage full of spotlights shone on her cheeks as she sat.

"Try some chicken," she said. "On the house. It's amazing!"

He speared one as she pulled out the project instructions and scratch paper. "What did you need help on?" he said, and as she explained, the smile in his mouth set into a frown or a grimace, and she spoke faster.

She was interrupted by him breaking out in wheezing coughs, choking and tears streaming.


	7. honey and helping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The cliffhanger last chapter was a a really cheap trick and I'm sorry for not being more imaginative.) Also this chapter is kinda short but I will try to make up for it with the next one!

"Sorry," he said, after downing his tea and dabbing at his face with a napkin. "I just wasn't expecting the chicken to be that spicy." His cheeks were still quite red.

"Ohmygosh, I'm so sorry!" Maylie gushed, although she was certain she hadn't added that much pepper. After some more back-and-forth, they returned their attention to Maylie's project, and Taehyun leaned over the table on his elbows, pointing to each new term and defining it for Maylie. He pulled a handout from his backpack and slid it to her, explaining, "This is a beat sheet."

It was titled "Save the Cat," and listed several strange terms, each of which was followed by clouds of his messy handwriting. She peered at them, trying to make sense of the confusion, and finally admitted defeat.

"Hm," he said. "So the opening image is intuitive, and contrasts the closing image, you know, like in 2001 Space Odyssey, when the spaceship—"

She blinked, furrowing her brows.

"I guess you haven't watched that. Um, how about Fantastic Mr. Fox?"

She shook her head.

"Citizen Kane? Or—what films have you seen?"

She thought, trying to think of anything that wasn't a movie musical. When has been the last time she'd even seen a movie? "I'm sorry," she said, frustrated with herself.

"How are you a film major if you don't know any films?"

Her eyes widened, and he backtracked.

"Hey, how about this? We can study a film together and I'll point out the beats for you. Napoleon Dynamite is a fun one!"

She stalled. "Like… now?"

"Or another time!" He scratched his head. "When you're not working or anything."

She hesitated.

Outside the window, she caught a glimpse of a lumbering figure and she jumped up. "My boss is coming back from his break—I should go back to work."

"Oh."

"I'll let you know when I'm free, though, I promise!"

Once she was back behind the counter, and out of his view, she adjusted her work clothes and her bangs, wondering why on earth she couldn't stop smiling.

* * *

The moment Rajanathan switched to the slide on group projects, Laurie's manicured hand shot up. "Mrs. R," she said, batting her eyes innocently, "Can we  _please_ choose our own groups this time? You  _never_ let us choose!"

Rajanathan hesitated, and Jenna bobbed her head up and down in agreement, like her sheer will would convince her.

"All right," Rajanathan conceded. "Groups of three."

"Yes!" said Jenna, looking excitedly between Maylie and Saf. "Finally, we're united—"

Laurie cleared her throat. "Um, not so fast, Jennifer." She tugged the back of Maylie's hoodie. "This one is with me."

Jenna's jaw dropped open. "Excuse me? You don't even  _like_ her— sorry, Maylie, sweetie, don't listen, everyone loves you—"

"I called it first," Laurie shrugged. "If you really wanted to have her you should have raised your hand and asked. Mayfly, get your stuff. You're with me."

Maylie tugged her hood back, rubbing her neck where Laurie had nearly suffocated her. She thought of refusing— she wasn't anybody's toy, after all— but the thought of the escalating catfight that might ensue convinced her otherwise. "Okay," she said, resignedly, and grabbed her things.

"I will regain custody, don't you worry," Jenna said, patting Maylie's shoulder, as she went to join Laurie.

Meanwhile, Laurie had snatched up her other groupmate from the class— Taehyun. Or, as she fondly called him, with her glossed olive nails trailing down his arm, "Lars, honey, how have you been?"

He smiled, catching Maylie's eye and waving. "Wonderful, how about you?" Laurie gushed her response, though Maylie thought for a moment that maybe the question had been meant for her.

The assignment this time was to look over each other's semester projects and offer advice. Of course, in this group, Maylie was the only one who wasn't nearly or already finished. After Laurie finished gushing over her latest drama to a somewhat uninterested Lars, she finally turned to Maylie and said, "Well? How's your dumpster fire of a project going?"

To which Maylie said, "Alright, I guess," and pulled out her laptop to show her. Since their meeting at Flower Tea, Taehyun had corresponded with her over Google Docs, commenting on her ideas and offering his advice. What she had now was a finished beat sheet, mostly finished outline, and the beginning of a screenplay.

"The Genie," Laurie read, scrunching up her nose. "What an unimaginative title."

"Well, I did some research on movie titles, and most seemed to be somewhat basic—"

"Doing research already?" Laurie scoffed. "Before you even have your story down? Don't you know good writers don't even  _think_ of the title before they finish?"

"Oh."

"There's no need to be harsh," said Taehyun. "Let's review her work."

"Of course, Lars, honey." She scanned Maylie's premise and outline, pursing her lips, and pointed out flaws in every line, even the ones Taehyun had helped write. He nodded at her criticism, following along, and finally Laurie decreed, "I say just scrap it. With storytelling, there's only one question that matters, and that's 'Why should I care?' I don't see you answer that anywhere."

Maylie tugged at the ends of her hair and sighed, taking back her laptop. She smiled at Laurie. "Thank you. I'll rewrite it."

"That's some pretty cool advice," Taehyun said, nodding at Laurie.

"Yeah, well, I don't even know why I bothered. She didn't listen to my other advice."

"Which—" Then, catching a glimpse of Jenna gesturing animatedly the row in front of her, she remembered. "Oh. I wanted to," she said, appeasingly. "It's just that I didn't want to let Jenna and Saf down."

"Please, we all know it's Jennifer's doing." Laurie leaned onto Taehyun, who scribbled in his notebook, far away. "Oh, and another piece of wisdom, newbie:  _wanting to_ do something has no weight. Either you do it or you don't. There are no excuses or halfsies."

Determined to be nice, Maylie replied, "You give really good advice."

"Thanks!" Laurie flipped her hair over her shoulder, and Taehyun looked up.

"Hey, Maylie," he said. "Don't feel too down about the criticism. If you want, you can blame me for most of the bad ideas."

Laurie sat up. "Why would you say that?"

"I helped her with her project over the weekend—"

Laurie paled for a moment, realizing her critiques had also been aimed at Lars. "You've been talking to  _my_ man?"

"Sorry—"

Jenna spun around, eyes wild. "What? Maylie!"

"I just asked him for some help; I'm sorry, guys."

"How dare you," Jenna said, and Taehyun said, awkwardly, "Uh, I'm not Laurie's man."

"Damn right," Jenna affirmed, then realized she'd spoken directly to Lars Larson, and spun back around, flushing.

"Good thing I decided to keep an eye on you," Laurie said to Maylie, her voice low. "Newbie, you  _really_ don't listen."

* * *

After school, Maylie and Saf walked through the halls together, Saf putting on her best impressions of Jenna. Maylie giggled at them, but when Saf joked, in Jenna's voice, "How  _dare_ you! Don't you know that I am the beautiful Lars Larsson's one and only soulmate?" Maylie stopped laughing.

Saf noticed this immediately and fell back to her more reserved self. "You know Jenna loves you, right?"

"Yeah," Maylie said, "But I feel like I'm such a terrible friend!"

"You?" She cackled. "Never."

"By the way," said Maylie, "I didn't know you wanted to be a surgeon."

They'd been talking earlier about the clubs Maylie wanted to join, and when she mentioned Future Surgeons of America, Saf eagerly invited her to join her.

"I don't," she said. "Well, I dunno. Better to have more choices than none."

From the men's restroom came Joseph then, his dark hair disheveled and greasy. "Maylie!" he said, excitedly.

Maylie waved, and Saf sighed. "Hello, Joseph."

"Where are you girls going?"

"FSA," Maylie said, just as she realized Saf was motioning her not to tell. She shrugged apologetically.

"Me, too!" he said.

Saf rolled her eyes. "Are you."

"Yeah, uh, my dad wanted me to get more involved. You know?"

"I know he does. As an important figure here, I'm sure he also wants you to get sober. You know?"

Maylie had no idea who his dad was, but she said, "Well, come if you want, right, Saf? I don't want to be late."

"Right," she muttered, and Joseph followed after them like a puppy.


	8. sexy and sheetfaced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little late for Halloween, but enjoy!

Maylie began regretting to come the moment Jenna parked her tiny VW Bug on the end of Hunter Lane, one of the newer neighborhoods up in the hills. Lights draped the mansions on every street, tombstones and skeletons decorating yards and porches. Strobing neons flashed at the fourth house on the right, and from the bass emanating from that epicenter, she knew that must be Anna's house.

It wasn't Halloween quite yet, but Maylie could have been convinced that it was. "This is the big party," Jenna said, adjusting her blue-veined china patterned minidress. An exaggerated string ran from the straps down her arm, ending in a painted tea bag tag. "Look hot, because  _everyone's_ here."

Maylie pulled the hem of her own minidress down farther. "I've never been to a party before."

"I know, honey." Jenna frowned at her, tugging Maylie's dress back up. "I said look  _hot_."

"How can she look hot when she's freezing her bottom off?" Saf rolled her eyes, leading them up Anna's porch steps.

"Enjoy the cool while you can." Jenna strode past Saf and through the open door. She shrieked.

A little boy wheezed with laughter. He emerged from around the corner, fake vampire fangs in his mouth and a bloody axe in his coiled hair, pointing at Jenna with his eyes streaming.

"You twerp!" Jenna accused, recovering herself. "That is no way to treat your elders!"

"What a scaredy-cat," the little boy guffawed, and Saf agreed heartily, punching Jenna's arm.

"Hey! My artwork is off limits!"

"Sorry," Saf said, not sorry, and the three girls finally entered the house.

The little boy waved. "Have fun,  _scaredy-cat!_ "

Anna greeted them around the corner, glowing with iridescent scales and glitter in her blonde hair. "Sorry," she shrugged sheepishly, "I had to let him do it so he wouldn't tell our parents."

Maylie marveled at her costume, agape at the way her scales blended seamlessly into her skirt. Anna smiled. "You ladies are looking fine! The drinks are in the kitchen. Help yourselves!"

Maylie nodded, tearing her attention away, only to be met by the throng of high schoolers pulsating and jumping in the dark dizziness of throbbing lights.

"By the way," Saf hollered, to be heard above the music, "This costume idea is still stupid."

"I'm sorry; I can't hear you," Jenna replied.

"And why am I sweet tea? I'm not even from the South!"

"Hm, I seem to remember you complaining whenever we eat out and they don't serve sweet tea."

"That was  _Chick-fil-A_ , and that was  _once._ "

"Uh huh." They pushed past the crowd, emerging where Anna had shown the kitchen would be. Red solo cups decorated the counter, and Maylie cocked her head, surprised that those weren't just reserved for the cinematic universe.

"These costumes aren't even sexy!"

Maylie peered at a bottle of Smirnoff, trying to decide whether 70% ABV was excessive.

"Excuse me, babe," Jenna said. "You look sexy all the time. And are you saying that Maylie isn't sexy? Look at her!"

Maylie's head shot up, distracted. "What?"

"Talking about how sexy you are," Jenna said. "Saf?"

"That's beside the point. I said the  _costumes_ are ugly, not her."

"Throwing shade, are we?" said a new voice, and Laurie entered the kitchen with all the flair of a theatre major on an opening night of  _Chicago_. That was how she was dressed, too— in sheer black stockings and a glittery flapper dress with a plunging back. Jenna scowled.

Laurie reached between Jenna and Maylie, opening a high-up cabinet and retrieving a bottle of cherry syrup. She mixed some with a shot of vodka and seltzer, and swirled it all with her pinky, which was painted crimson now, instead of her usual shade of muted green.

Jenna crossed her arms. "I'm only not shoving you because I don't want to get your drink all over my dress."

"Oh, so I finish this all you won't hesitate to get your hands on me?" Laurie smirked, and exited.

"Hey!" Jenna said, but she was already gone. "It's common courtesy to let  _me_ have the last word!"

"Why?" Saf snickered. "Would you have had anything smart to say?"

"Hmph! Doesn't she know it's  _illegal_ to be that hot? Is she trying to seduce the whole US population?"

Saf nodded. "Yeah! Show her!"

"Yeah!" Jenna nodded vigorously. "Give me ideas!"

"Kiss her!"

"Yeah!" Jenna stopped. "Wait."

* * *

The girls joined the party with red cups in hand. Many of their school classmates were there; Samir and Calvin jostled each other, dancing to music that did not match what everyone else heard; Dmitriya from AP Lit ground on the only boy from ballet; and a popular girl Jenna had pointed out from the dance team pressed against the banister, making out with Dracula.

Maylie sniffed the drink Saf had mixed for her, and took a sip. It was cherry Pepsi that barely tasted like alcohol, except for the slight warm sensation as it went down her throat.

"Don't let it out of your sight," Saf warned. "And drink water."

"Okay."

Saf took a big swig from hers, an orange Fanta bottle she'd brought herself and poured vodka into. She absorbed the music, singing along and dancing with her eyes half closed. Jenna danced, too, and Maylie tried to mimic them, hoping that maybe a song she knew would come on at some point.

Joseph sauntered into the house, and Anna welcomed him.

"Is he already drunk?" Maylie said to Jenna. "But he just got here!"

"Babe, he must have pregamed."

"Oh."

In the festive atmosphere of the party, everyone seemed friendlier: as Joseph walked through the crowd, people patted him on the back or waved.

"Hey Joseph," Jenna yelled. "Where's your costume?"

He had on jeans and a T-shirt that said "Caution, the beverage you're about to consume is extremely HOT," and had the word "MESS" scrawled over it in red ink.

"Very funny," he said.

Maylie decided to take pity on him. "What are you dressed up as?"

"Myself."

She blinked, taken aback. "Accurate," she said, and then feeling bad, added, "Oops! I didn't see the part that said 'mess.'"

* * *

The time was only nine o'clock, and according to her friends, good parties didn't end until well past midnight. By nine-thirty, she was already thinking of how tired her feet were, and how weary she was of making sure her cup didn't slosh onto her dress. She was well aware of how angry her parents became each time Amelie had come home with the stench of weed and liquor stained onto her clothes.

Joseph danced and drank as if he intended to join the plastic corpses sprawled out on the neighborhood lawns. He'd brought his own liquor in addition to the stuff Anna served in the kitchen, chugging Fireball and beer without breaks.

"Slow down!" Maylie yelled in his ear, hoping he could still hear her. "You're going to get alcohol poisoning!"

He just smiled at her, slung a heavy arm around her shoulder, and kept dancing, though his steps were leaden and he stumbled off-beat, jerking Maylie with him each time. Saf had eyed him disapprovingly earlier, but now she was off straddling an unknown boy, lost in the moment, and Jenna danced while glaring at Laurie, moving the group of them increasingly closer to the corner where she and Anna hung with their "popular posse."

Anna beckoned them enthusiastically, and Maylie, seizing the opportunity, ducked out from under Joseph's arm, and pulled Jenna over with her.

"What are you doing—" Jenna hissed, but they were already with the other girls. Joseph followed behind them, inviting himself between Anna and Maylie.

Jenna placed her hands on her hips, stuck her tongue out at Laurie, and linked arms with Maylie protectively. Laurie just rolled her eyes, studied her for a moment, and winked. Jenna made a tiny gasp.

Anna giggled. "Have you girls been enjoying the party so far?"

"Had been until now," said Jenna.

"Be nice," Maylie said, and to be true to her own word, lied, "It's been so fun!"

"I think it's been fun, too," Joseph added, staring straight at Maylie. He put his arm around her again, and she tensed up, hating the feeling of being claimed. The music pounded; it hadn't let up since she first came, and now she wasn't sure if her sense of disconnection was due to hearing loss or inebriation.

"Excuse me," she said, escaping Joseph again. "Anna, where's the bathroom?"

Anna nodded knowingly. "C'mon, I'll show you." She led Maylie toward the entryway and up the stairs, past couples and whispering cliques. Maylie held on tightly to the rail as she went up the stairs, now painfully aware of her acquired clumsiness. With each step, the world swayed under her feet, and her vision was like the tides; she was never sure if her foot would actually hit the next step or slip on the edge and send her tumbling back down to the party.

Anna handed her an empty cup. "Drink at least one full cup of water," she said. "One full cup. Okay?"

Maylie nodded, blinking to make the fog go away. Every sound was muted and far away. She held onto a wall to steady herself as she took the cup and entered the bathroom as Anna instructed.

"Want me to wait for you?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, Anna."

"You sure?" When Maylie insisted, Anna sighed. "All right. Well, let me know if you need anything, okay?"

The bathroom was beige and coral, and the lights shone much too brightly. With the door locked and silence surrounding her, Maylie stared at herself in the mirror, wondering why everything seemed to hurtle closer. She splashed water on her face and wiped the flecks of mascara that had fallen under her eyes. She forced herself to down the water, as instructed, and was glad when the room sharpened itself, the lights slightly more bearable. She felt sick, and sat down, her back against the bathtub.

Something brushed the back of her head. She whipped around, and a black shape with round yellow eyes startled. She pressed her hand to her heart, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Hi," she murmured. "I disturbed you, huh?"

The cat meowed back, and rubbed its head on her shoulder. Maylie smiled, letting it sniff her hand and then stroking its fluffy head. For a few minutes, she and the cat relaxed, their eyes half open, when a knock came from the door, with a young voice that she belatedly realized must belong to the little boy with the vampire fangs.

"Hello?" The boy called. "I have to pee!"

"Sorry," Maylie said, quickly, jumping up and opening the door.

Anna's brother crossed his arms. "She said no one was going to come upstairs."

"Oh, I didn't know! I hope I didn't get her in trouble."

He considered her for a moment. "I'm Caleb." He stuck out his hand.

"I'm Maylie," she said, shaking it.

"Do you want to play Mario Kart?"

Did she? "Sure." The smell of Joseph's breath still made her stomach turn.

"I'm going to be Donkey Kong."

"Okay."

"But I have to pee first."

"All right."

Caleb ran into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut. "What's up, Bamboo," he said.

Maylie waited, smiling at the cat's name. When he came out again, he said, "Who're you gonna be?"

"Huh?" She realized he meant Mario Kart character, and stammered, "Um, I don't know— Princess Peach?"

"Typical."

His room was twice the size of Maylie's, even before she moved. Bamboo the cat followed them from the bathroom and curled up in a basket of folded laundry. Video game posters decked the walls, and Caleb's bed and floor were messes of clothes and engineering sets. The window overlooked the roof and drive.

He handed her a controller. "You're Player B for basic."

"That's not very nice. Are you Player A for a—" She stopped, realizing what she was about to say would be inappropriate for a child, and corrected, "for awesome?"

"Obviously." He started the game, and Maylie watched helplessly as she fell off the path twice and dragged farther and farther behind.

"I win!"

"You sure do," Maylie sighed. "I'll just watch for now. Can you beat your high score?"

"Of course I can," he replied, as if she were stupid, and was distracted from then on. Maylie moved closer to the cat, scratching it under its chin as it purred and she stared out the window, yawning. She would have nearly dozed off, too, if a loud roar hadn't cut through the still night air. At the end of the drive, a muddy Jeep Wrangler glowed from its headlights, engine growling. A stocky boy parked it and made his way to the house, sauntering and twirling his keys around his finger. His straw-colored hair reflected the moon, and he had no costume, at least not as far as Maylie could see from here.

Her stomach sank. Tanner was unmistakable, even at night, and she wanted to leave the party more than ever. She remembered Anna's distaste for the bully, and realized uncomfortably that given the current time, he probably wasn't even supposed to come at all.

She stood up, Bamboo complaining, and told Caleb, "Sorry, but I have to go back down."

"Already?"

"Yeah. Something came up."

She almost got herself lost on the way back, but soon she recognized the bathroom and found the stairs, where the pounding music was back and she could see the people she knew in the back corner, still dancing.

"Guys," she shouted, joining them and hopping so they could see her face between their shoulders. "Guys, Tanner is here."

"Tanner?" Anna stopped dancing, frowning. "That can't be."

"That meathead wasn't invited," Laurie concurred.

On cue, Tanner entered the room, and with a nod, the music stopped. "Fuck you all," he said. "For not inviting me. But I'll be nice. You can all make it up to me. Who wants to play a game?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's an actual cliffhanger this time! What do you think will happen?


	9. drama and dramatics (plus a little magic)

"This is why we didn't invite you," Anna said, crossing her arms. "Name one time you didn't cause a scene."

"Don't be rude," he said. "Boys!"

Samir and Calvin slunk out from the crowd to take his side. Their bright costumes clashed with Tanner's all-black, and though they straightened up to look aggressive, neither could quite pull it off.

Tanner smacked them both on the back. "Time to show her what a  _real_ party looks like."

"What are you thinking?" Samir asked.

"Drinking contest." He pulled a stripped Gatorade bottle full of bright green liquid from his jacket pocket and waved it. "Arm wrestling. Loser drinks all of this." He smiled, and his silver tooth glinted. "Who wants to play? Queenie?"

Laurie rolled her eyes. "Please. I'm out." And with that, she handed her cup to Anna and left, flicking her hair dismissively at Tanner as she passed.

"I volunteer," said Joseph, though his voice was already slurred and he stumbled as he walked. "Why don't we make this a real fight?"

Tanner nodded approvingly. "Raising the stakes? That's the spirit! We'll add this, too: Winner gets to kiss a girl of his choice. What d'you all think?"

"No, Tanner," Anna said.

He ignored her. "No objections then, I see." He pushed up his sleeves. "Ready, hot mess?"

Maylie tugged at Joseph's shirt. "Joseph. Don't do it."

"I came to get smashed," he drawled. "And that's what I intend to do."

"You're gonna get smashed physically, too," Saf said, putting her hand on Maylie's shoulder. Aside, she whispered, "Let him go."

Maylie dropped her hand.

He launched forward, swinging his arms, and Tanner kicked him square in the stomach. Joseph picked himself up again, the weight of gravity against him, and he tried again, and again, each time thwarted by Tanner's unrelenting blows. Tanner punched him in the head, in the neck, in the side; kicked him in the groin, in the ribs, in the knee; elbowed him in the mouth, in the nose, in the eye; until Joseph was nothing but a black, blue, and red heap on the floor.

Tanner smacked him with the Gatorade bottle. "Drink up, fucker."

"Gladly." He smiled through his reddened teeth, and chugged the contents of the bottle in one go, Tanner chanting, "Chug chug chug chug!" while the rest of the partygoers stared in mute concern. Joseph drained the last drop, Tanner applauding, and convulsed, holding back a retch.

Now, Tanner surveyed the crowd with his pale eyes, like a vulture over a roadkill buffet. "Who wants to be the lucky lady?"

Maylie's first thought went to Laurie, who seemed to be the obvious choice, and she hoped to herself,  _please not Laurie_. Then she remembered that Laurie had left a while ago, and hoped that  _no_ girl would be picked, that someone would stop him, and that she could hide away in a quiet corner with no one but herself and Bamboo.

"Bay leaf!" Tanner said, and for a moment, Maylie wondered what that meant. Then she realized it meant her, and she stepped back, shrinking. With her sudden movement, and the sharp smile he pointed in her direction, everyone's eyes fell on her. The panic rose in her chest.

"Not happening, buddy," Saf said, throwing her arm up in front of Maylie. Jenna's eyes darted nervously, but she too straightened up and did the same.

Tanner tilted his head amicably. "Come on, don't be party poopers."

From the ground, Joseph pushed himself off the ground, though in vain, because his face flushed closer to the color of the drink he'd chugged, and his knees buckled under him, his muscles deaf. He groaned pitifully, and slurred, "Hey! Tanner… how about no! Like I know… I agreed… but… like…" He took a deep, gasping inhale. "No!" With one final heave, he threw himself at Tanner, fell flat on his cheek, and puked.

Cries of disgust rose from the crowd. Anna glared at Tanner. "Party over! Everyone out!" They didn't have to be told twice. The house was empty in seconds, except for Joseph, who still lay on the floor in his own filth, and Tanner, who took his time, running his fingers over the mahogany banister and family picture frames, kicking Joseph one last time.

As Maylie passed him, her friends flanking her on each side, Tanner's gaze followed her, and he said, "Too bad Arse-son couldn't show up, huh?"

Jenna growled at him, and Saf's grip on Maylie's shoulders tightened. Anna hugged each of them as they left, and patted Maylie's hair, saying, "I'm glad you're safe, sweetie. Have a nice night; see you girls Monday."

* * *

When Taehyun had mentioned studying a film together, she hadn't thought he meant this. The football stadium of the local public school was boisterous and bright, the stadium lights illuminating the heads of the several hundred kids who had shown up, some sprawled out on the turf, some huddled in blankets, and some bouncing on air mattresses and blow-up couches.

Taehyun was waiting at the front gates, two rather large blankets in his arms, and a worried look on his face. He lit up when he saw her. "I almost thought you weren't going to show."

"Of course I'd come," Maylie replied. "I need that grade, and you're the film expert."

"Right," he said, his fingers thrumming on the blankets, the bright lights reflecting off his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. "Um, do you want to find somewhere to sit?"

They walked onto the field, the turf crunching under their feet, and found an open spot right in the center of the crowd. Taehyun handed her a blanket, and she rolled it out on the green.

He rubbed his hands together. "I'll go get some popcorn," he said, hastily. "Do you want anything else?"

She shook her head, and he left her, walking with his hands in his pockets and the wind ruffling his hair.

She let out a sigh. A night with Taehyun, alone… after the fiasco earlier, with Laurie, not to mention whatever was up with Tanner— she hoped dearly that no one from school was here to stir up gossip for the coming week.

Around her, couples cuddled, friends gossipped and the barbecue aroma wafted seductively. She pulled out her notebook, a tattered old spiral-bound one she'd half-filled with miscellaneous notes over the years. On a new page, she wrote the title of the movie:  _The Nightmare Before Christmas._

When Taehyun returned, she laughed. Besides a giant tub of popcorn, he'd also bought two cups of cocoa, several packets of candy, and a pair of souvenir T-shirts, all of which were piled precariously on him.

Maylie jumped up to take the popcorn first, and set it between the two blankets before it all exploded everywhere, then took the two scalding hot cups from his arm. "Thanks," he said, and she shook her head.

"You really went overboard, huh?"

He shrugged sheepishly, and let the numerous candy packets and bars fall to the ground. "If you're going to see a movie, it should be the full movie experience."

"Do you know if this movie is any good?"

He gaped. "You mean you haven't seen it?"

"No…"

"The animation is fantastic! So is the score— and I'm a huge fan of all of Tim Burton's work, honestly." He plopped onto his blanket, spreading out on his stomach, angled toward her. He shook his head. "I still don't see why you chose to be a film major, since you never watch any movies."

"Hm," she said.

"Are you excited for Halloween?"

She considered the night before, and answered, "It seems you are."

"I love free candy," he said, and she eyed his pile of sweets.

"I can see that."

"Holidays are amazing! I love Halloween, and Thanksgiving, and Christmas—!" He paused. "You're not feeling it?"

"Well, Halloween's kind of at a bad time of year," she said. "In the middle of exams and homework— plus everyone's so negative about death and scary things."

"Then what holiday do you like?"

"Christmas."

He leaned forward, his chin in his hands. "Why?"

"Because…" she considered. "Because my family is always together on Christmas, and because there's a break from school, and we all go do something fun together. Because Christmas is always happy." She imagined the coming Christmas, of a tree in their new apartment, of her mother smiling and her father laughing and Amelie dancing in front of the fireplace, and she realized with a sinking feeling that in all likeliness, this Christmas would not be the same as the others.

Taehyun tilted his head. "What?"

"It's nothing," she said, smiling. "I'm just not sure if my sister is coming home this Christmas."

"Oh, is she in college?"

She wanted to say yes. What a world that would be, if her sister were away chasing her future instead of running away from it. If Amelie were away because she was living her life, not dying in it. If their financial troubles stemmed from tuition, not medical costs.

Instead, she changed the subject. "The movie's starting."

"So it is."

She focused on her notes, outlining a beat sheet. His eyes still flicked back to her-she knew her reluctance to answer was obvious.

"The doors to the different towns," he said.

"Huh?"

"That's the opening image. The doors."

"Oh."

"Yeah, and the mise-en-scene— the music adds to that."

She wrote that down, studying the movie's frames like life or death.

"And the stop-motion animation style. Consider how it adds to the effect of the movie. Like how Wes Anderson's  _Fantastic Mr. Fox_ — oh, right. You haven't seen that. Sorry." He listed other aspects of the movie, noting background information and details on-screen. As he talked, he slowly seemed to lose interest. "So why did you move?"

She looked up, startled. "What?"

He stared back at her, then averted his eyes as he took a draught from his cup of cocoa. "Or— what was your old school like? Do you miss it?"

Her old school. She hadn't thought of it in a while, and not because she'd been avoiding it; she'd been too busy dealing with the present, or that's what she believed. But now that she'd opened the gates, the memories began flooding back, and she found the words escaping her mouth before she had the chance to hold them back. "My best friend was Sanjay Gundala," she said. "He's a perfect human being. I didn't deserve him. My parents love him; we basically lived over at each other's houses. He's the sweetest— whenever I was lonely I called him and we would talk for hours. We did homework together after school— he wants to be a doctor, too. We talked about how we both wanted to go to Stanford. His mom teaches there; she'd take us sometimes and we'd sit in on her lectures, or attend alumni events."

Taehyun nodded, listening, his chin on his arms. "Tell me more."

"I don't want to bother you."

"Do you still talk to him? You're talking in past tense."

"Sometimes," she said. "But it's not the same." She hadn't really had a conversation with him since she moved. The things they had in common were washed away, connected only by the events of Amelie's condition. But she couldn't talk to Sanjay about Amelie, or about her parents, or any of that. Family issues were to remain family issues, and no level of friendship could change that.

"You can always talk to me. If you want, I mean."

She didn't have a response, other than "Thanks." And then to escape the topic, and fulfill her earlier promise, she blurted, "So, what do you think of my friend Jenna?"

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, uh, she's nice. I guess. A little scary."

"She's really cute, isn't she? She's so enthusiastic and supportive. And she's never afraid to say anything, ever. She has amazing style— just like you— and she's so good at everything!"

"You guys must be good friends."

She stopped, not expecting that answer. She'd wanted him to agree, to say  _yes, Jenna's cute_ , to say he'd consider asking her out. "I guess we are." She cleared her throat, turning back to her notes. "Did we miss anything?"

"Not much," he said. "Just a little bit of the song."

"How to the lyrics affect the story? Do you know?"

"I mean, they do, but…" he frowned at her already growing collection of notes. "You know, examining every detail really doesn't matter that much. Films are about art, not formulas."

"But there is a formula," she said. "The beat sheet. The story arc."

"Yeah, but, like… you can't just blindly follow the formula. Then your art has no substance. It's empty, commercial, regurgitated. Art is fluid; it's about what feels right, what speaks to your soul and what your heart is trying to express. Like, yeah, studying the formulas helps you get started, but you don't need to copy down every minute detail. Art isn't like that."

"Didn't Rajanathan say almost all major films follow this beat sheet? That they all fit into the same categories, have the same plot points and the same stock characters? If that's what it takes to be successful, that's what I'm going to do, too. I have to get an A; I don't have time to try to be an artist."

He sighed, looking pained. "I guess this is why I can't be a doctor. I hate following instructions."

"Of course you could be a doctor," she said immediately. "If you put your mind to it, you can do anything."

"Then I'm rooting for you." His smile was lazy, teasing. "Doctor Maylie Yang, M.D."

And there it was again. Her name, and his voice. A drop of rain fell on her head, and she looked up, surprised. The sky was gray— she hadn't noticed it before. The stadium lights made the falling droplets into mini comets, shooting towards them, promising wishes.

"I love the rain," said Taehyun.

"Me too," she said.

"It's like a promise," he said. "Saying, soon there will be a harvest! Soon there will be flowers, and snow caps, and green grass. Movies make rain out to be something sad, but I disagree."

"You can always tell what kind of person someone is by how they react to the rain," Maylie said. She didn't have anything particularly deep to add, not like Taehyun, but by observing him, she did have this one thought. "People who dislike the rain let life lead them. People who love it are optimistic and positive. They're the kind of people who look at life and say, 'This is my life, so I choose to be happy, no matter what happens.' People like you."

"I believe in you," he said, grinning.

"What?"

"I have no doubt in my mind you could be an artist if you wanted to be. Maybe a better artist than me, but I doubt it. Maybe."

"Are you saying you're a good artist or a bad one?"

"I'm  _the best_. Duh."

"What an egotist!"

"You know it, too! You asked me for help, didn't you? I'm  _amazing_ at filmmaking!"

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hold back her giggles. "Oh my god.  _Taehyun_."

He looked back at the movie right then, the curves still frozen into his lips, and for a moment they were both silent as the sounds of the movie continued around them, and as umbrellas unfolded and tents popped up. The moment turned to several, and then it was like they'd forgotten how to talk. Or maybe just Maylie had.

So she turned her attention back to the movie, though somewhat in vain, and half-heartedly picked back up where she'd left off in her notes, the slow, misting drops of rain landing here and there on her inky notebook pages.

 

After a while, the rain stopped just as slowly as it began, the movie still droning on in the background. The slight evening breeze sent light dancing along the blades of turf, the droplets dotting the umbrellas and tents, and, beside her, the softly windblown strands of Taehyun's hair. His eyes were closed, his brows relaxed— he'd fallen asleep not too long ago, without Maylie noticing. He had his head nestled in his folded arms, his dark lashes resting just above the smattering of light freckles across his cheeks.

The rain from earlier made the world iridescent. For just a second, the sudden beauty of this still moment captured her, the soft diegetic sounds and slowly glimmering turf elements of the mise-en-scene of her own cinematic frame, the soft breaths escaping Taehyun's lips and the prairie waves of his hair the small details that hinted to the deeper meaning of her story. A story whose message she couldn't decipher yet, whose ending she couldn't predict.

From the gray sky, a single yellow leaf fluttered down from the breeze, swirling and tumbling and sliding until it perched finally, daintily, on the nest of his hair.

She reached a hand out to pluck it, but he shifted suddenly, sighing. She froze, her fingers hovering just over his hair, just barely touching, and her eyes locked firmly on the chiseled marble bones of his nose and brows and cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat.

The world was spinning, dramatically, like a revolving dolly shot, and nothing in it was moving, nothing but the quickening beat of her heart.

She realized her mouth had been hanging slightly open; hastily, she withdrew her hand, stuffing the leaf into her pocket—though she couldn't explain why—and wondered, with puzzled brows— _What is this feeling?_


	10. boys boys boys

“This is why we didn’t invite you,” Anna said, crossing her arms. “Name one time you didn’t cause a scene.”

“Don’t be rude,” he said. “Boys!” 

Samir and Calvin slunk out from the crowd to take his side. Their bright costumes clashed with Tanner’s all-black, and though they straightened up to look aggressive, neither could quite pull it off.

Tanner smacked them both on the back. “Time to show her what a  _ real  _ party looks like.”

“What are you thinking?” Samir asked.

“Drinking contest.” He pulled a stripped Gatorade bottle full of bright green liquid from his jacket pocket and waved it. “Arm wrestling. Loser drinks all of this.” He smiled, and his silver tooth glinted. “Who wants to play? Queenie?”

Laurie rolled her eyes. “Please. I’m out.” And with that, she handed her cup to Anna and left, flicking her hair dismissively at Tanner as she passed.

“I volunteer,” said Joseph, though his voice was already slurred and he stumbled as he walked. “Why don’t we make this a real fight?”

Tanner nodded approvingly. “Raising the stakes? That’s the spirit! We’ll add this, too: Winner gets to kiss a girl of his choice. What d’you all think?”

“No, Tanner,” Anna said.

He ignored her. “No objections then, I see.” He pushed up his sleeves. “Ready, hot mess?”

Maylie tugged at Joseph’s shirt. “Joseph. Don’t do it.”

“I came to get smashed,” he drawled. “And that’s what I intend to do.”

“You’re gonna get smashed physically, too,” Saf said, putting her hand on Maylie’s shoulder. Aside, she whispered, “Let him go.”

Maylie dropped her hand.

He launched forward, swinging his arms, and Tanner kicked him square in the stomach. Joseph picked himself up again, the weight of gravity against him, and he tried again, and again, each time thwarted by Tanner’s unrelenting blows. Tanner punched him in the head, in the neck, in the side; kicked him in the groin, in the ribs, in the knee; elbowed him in the mouth, in the nose, in the eye; until Joseph was nothing but a black, blue, and red heap on the floor.

Tanner smacked him with the Gatorade bottle. “Drink up, fucker.”

“Gladly.” He smiled through his reddened teeth, and chugged the contents of the bottle in one go, Tanner chanting, “Chug chug chug chug!” while the rest of the partygoers stared in mute concern. Joseph drained the last drop, Tanner applauding, and convulsed, holding back a retch.

Now, Tanner surveyed the crowd with his pale eyes, like a vulture over a roadkill buffet. “Who wants to be the lucky lady?”

Maylie’s first thought went to Laurie, who seemed to be the obvious choice, and she hoped to herself,  _ please not Laurie _ . Then she remembered that Laurie had left a while ago, and hoped that  _ no  _ girl would be picked, that someone would stop him, and that she could hide away in a quiet corner with no one but herself and Bamboo.

“Bay leaf!” Tanner said, and for a moment, Maylie wondered what that meant. Then she realized it meant her, and she stepped back, shrinking. With her sudden movement, and the sharp smile he pointed in her direction, everyone’s eyes fell on her. The panic rose in her chest.

“Not happening, buddy,” Saf said, throwing her arm up in front of Maylie. Jenna’s eyes darted nervously, but she too straightened up and did the same. 

Tanner tilted his head amicably. “Come on, don’t be party poopers.” 

From the ground, Joseph pushed himself off the ground, though in vain, because his face flushed closer to the color of the drink he’d chugged, and his knees buckled under him, his muscles deaf.  He groaned pitifully, and slurred, “Hey! Tanner… how about no! Like I know… I agreed… but… like…” He took a deep, gasping inhale. “No!” With one final heave, he threw himself at Tanner, fell flat on his cheek, and puked.

Cries of disgust rose from the crowd. Anna glared at Tanner. “Party over! Everyone out!” They didn’t have to be told twice. The house was empty in seconds, except for Joseph, who still lay on the floor in his own filth, and Tanner, who took his time, running his fingers over the mahogany banister and family picture frames, kicking Joseph one last time. 

As Maylie passed him, her friends flanking her on each side, Tanner’s gaze followed her, and he said, “Too bad Arse-son couldn’t show up, huh?”

Jenna growled at him, and Saf’s grip on Maylie’s shoulders tightened. Anna hugged each of them as they left, and patted Maylie’s hair, saying, “I’m glad you’re safe, sweetie. Have a nice night; see you girls Monday.”

* * *

 

When Taehyun had mentioned studying a film together, she hadn’t thought he meant this. The football stadium of the local public school was boisterous and bright, the stadium lights illuminating the heads of the several hundred kids who had shown up, some sprawled out on the turf, some huddled in blankets, and some bouncing on air mattresses and blow-up couches. 

Taehyun was waiting at the front gates, two rather large blankets in his arms, and a worried look on his face. He lit up when he saw her. “I almost thought you weren’t going to show.”

“Of course I’d come,” Maylie replied. “I need that grade, and you’re the film expert.”

“Right,” he said, his fingers thrumming on the blankets, the bright lights reflecting off his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. “Um, do you want to find somewhere to sit?”

They walked onto the field, the turf crunching under their feet, and found an open spot right in the center of the crowd. Taehyun handed her a blanket, and she rolled it out on the green.

He rubbed his hands together. “I’ll go get some popcorn,” he said, hastily. “Do you want anything else?”

She shook her head, and he left her, walking with his hands in his pockets and the wind ruffling his hair.

She let out a sigh. A night with Taehyun, alone… after the fiasco earlier, with Laurie, not to mention whatever was up with Tanner— she hoped dearly that no one from school was here to stir up gossip for the coming week.

Around her, couples cuddled, friends gossipped and the barbecue aroma wafted seductively. She pulled out her notebook, a tattered old spiral-bound one she’d half-filled with miscellaneous notes over the years. On a new page, she wrote the title of the movie:  _ The Nightmare Before Christmas. _

When Taehyun returned, she laughed. Besides a giant tub of popcorn, he’d also bought two cups of cocoa, several packets of candy, and a pair of souvenir T-shirts, all of which were piled precariously on him. 

Maylie jumped up to take the popcorn first, and set it between the two blankets before it all exploded everywhere, then took the two scalding hot cups from his arm. “Thanks,” he said, and she shook her head.

“You really went overboard, huh?”

He shrugged sheepishly, and let the numerous candy packets and bars fall to the ground. “If you’re going to see a movie, it should be the full movie experience.”

“Do you know if this movie is any good?”

He gaped. “You mean you haven’t seen it?”

“No…”

“The animation is fantastic! So is the score— and I’m a huge fan of all of Tim Burton's work, honestly.” He plopped onto his blanket, spreading out on his stomach, angled toward her. He shook his head. “I still don’t see why you chose to be a film major, since you never watch any movies.”

“Hm,” she said.

“Are you excited for Halloween?”

She considered the night before, and answered, “It seems you are.”

“I love free candy,” he said, and she eyed his pile of sweets.

“I can see that.”

“Holidays are amazing! I love Halloween, and Thanksgiving, and Christmas—!” He paused. “You’re not feeling it?”

“Well, Halloween’s kind of at a bad time of year,” she said. “In the middle of exams and homework— plus everyone’s so negative about death and scary things.”

“Then what holiday do you like?”

“Christmas.”

He leaned forward, his chin in his hands. “Why?”

“Because…” she considered. “Because my family is always together on Christmas, and because there’s a break from school, and we all go do something fun together. Because Christmas is always happy.” She imagined the coming Christmas, of a tree in their new apartment, of her mother smiling and her father laughing and Amelie dancing in front of the fireplace, and she realized with a sinking feeling that in all likeliness, this Christmas would not be the same as the others. 

Taehyun tilted his head. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, smiling. “I’m just not sure if my sister is coming home this Christmas.”

“Oh, is she in college?”

She wanted to say yes. What a world that would be, if her sister were away chasing her future instead of running away from it. If Amelie were away because she was living her life, not dying in it. If their financial troubles stemmed from tuition, not medical costs.

Instead, she changed the subject. “The movie’s starting.”

“So it is.”

She focused on her notes, outlining a beat sheet. His eyes still flicked back to her--she knew her reluctance to answer was obvious.

“The doors to the different towns,” he said.

“Huh?”

“That’s the opening image. The doors.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, and the mise-en-scene— the music adds to that.”

She wrote that down, studying the movie’s frames like life or death. 

“And the stop-motion animation style. Consider how it adds to the effect of the movie. Like how Wes Anderson’s  _ Fantastic Mr. Fox _ — oh, right. You haven’t seen that. Sorry.” He listed other aspects of the movie, noting background information and details on-screen. As he talked, he slowly seemed to lose interest. “So why did you move?”

She looked up, startled. “What?” 

He stared back at her, then averted his eyes as he took a draught from his cup of cocoa. “Or— what was your old school like? Do you miss it?”

Her old school. She hadn’t thought of it in a while, and not because she’d been avoiding it; she’d been too busy dealing with the present, or that’s what she believed. But now that she’d opened the gates, the memories began flooding back, and she found the words escaping her mouth before she had the chance to hold them back. “My best friend was Sanjay Gundala,” she said. “He’s a perfect human being. I didn’t deserve him. My parents love him; we basically lived over at each other’s houses. He’s the sweetest— whenever I was lonely I called him and we would talk for hours. We did homework together after school— he wants to be a doctor, too. We talked about how we both wanted to go to Stanford. His mom teaches there; she’d take us sometimes and we’d sit in on her lectures, or attend alumni events.”

Taehyun nodded, listening, his chin on his arms. “Tell me more.”

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“Do you still talk to him? You’re talking in past tense.”

“Sometimes,” she said. “But it’s not the same.” She hadn’t really had a conversation with him since she moved. The things they had in common were washed away, connected only by the events of Amelie’s condition. But she couldn’t talk to Sanjay about Amelie, or about her parents, or any of that. Family issues were to remain family issues, and no level of friendship could change that.

“You can always talk to me. If you want, I mean.”

She didn’t have a response, other than “Thanks.” And then to escape the topic, and fulfill her earlier promise, she blurted, “So, what do you think of my friend Jenna?”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, uh, she’s nice. I guess. A little scary.”

“She’s really cute, isn’t she? She’s so enthusiastic and supportive. And she’s never afraid to say anything, ever. She has amazing style— just like you— and she’s so good at everything!”

“You guys must be good friends.”

She stopped, not expecting that answer. She’d wanted him to agree, to say  _ yes, Jenna’s cute _ , to say he’d consider asking her out. “I guess we are.” She cleared her throat, turning back to her notes. “Did we miss anything?”

“Not much,” he said. “Just a little bit of the song.”

“How to the lyrics affect the story? Do you know?”

“I mean, they do, but…” he frowned at her already growing collection of notes. “You know, examining every detail really doesn’t matter that much. Films are about art, not formulas.”

“But there is a formula,” she said. “The beat sheet. The story arc.”

“Yeah, but, like… you can’t just blindly follow the formula. Then your art has no substance. It’s empty, commercial, regurgitated. Art is fluid; it’s about what feels right, what speaks to your soul and what your heart is trying to express. Like, yeah, studying the formulas helps you get started, but you don’t need to copy down every minute detail. Art isn’t like that.”

“Didn’t Rajanathan say almost all major films follow this beat sheet? That they all fit into the same categories, have the same plot points and the same stock characters? If that’s what it takes to be successful, that’s what I’m going to do, too. I have to get an A; I don’t have time to try to be an artist.”

He sighed, looking pained. “I guess this is why I can’t be a doctor. I hate following instructions.”

“Of course you could be a doctor,” she said immediately. “If you put your mind to it, you can do anything.”

“Then I’m rooting for you.” His smile was lazy, teasing. “Doctor Maylie Yang, M.D.”

And there it was again. Her name, and his voice. A drop of rain fell on her head, and she looked up, surprised. The sky was gray— she hadn’t noticed it before. The stadium lights made the falling droplets into mini comets, shooting towards them, promising wishes.

“I love the rain,” said Taehyun.

“Me too,” she said.

“It’s like a promise,” he said. “Saying, soon there will be a harvest! Soon there will be flowers, and snow caps, and green grass. Movies make rain out to be something sad, but I disagree.”

“You can always tell what kind of person someone is by how they react to the rain,” Maylie said. She didn’t have anything particularly deep to add, not like Taehyun, but by observing him, she did have this one thought. “People who dislike the rain let life lead them. People who love it are optimistic and positive. They’re the kind of people who look at life and say, ‘This is my life, so I choose to be happy, no matter what happens.’ People like you.”

“I believe in you,” he said, grinning.

“What?”

“I have no doubt in my mind you could be an artist if you wanted to be. Maybe a better artist than me, but I doubt it. Maybe.”

“Are you saying you’re a good artist or a bad one?”

“I’m  _ the best _ . Duh.”

“What an egotist!”

“You know it, too! You asked me for help, didn’t you? I’m  _ amazing  _ at filmmaking!”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hold back her giggles. “Oh my god. _ Taehyun _ .”

He looked back at the movie right then, the curves still frozen into his lips, and for a moment they were both silent as the sounds of the movie continued around them, and as umbrellas unfolded and tents popped up. The moment turned to several, and then it was like they’d forgotten how to talk. Or maybe just Maylie had.

So she turned her attention back to the movie, though somewhat in vain, and half-heartedly picked back up where she’d left off in her notes, the slow, misting drops of rain landing here and there on her inky notebook pages.

* * *

 

After a while, the rain stopped just as slowly as it began, the movie still droning on in the background. The slight evening breeze sent light dancing along the blades of turf, the droplets dotting the umbrellas and tents, and, beside her, the softly windblown strands of Taehyun’s hair. His eyes were closed, his brows relaxed— he’d fallen asleep not too long ago, without Maylie noticing. He had his head nestled in his folded arms, his dark lashes resting just above the smattering of light freckles across his cheeks. 

The rain from earlier made the world iridescent. For just a second, the sudden beauty of this still moment captured her, the soft diegetic sounds and slowly glimmering turf elements of the mise-en-scene of her own cinematic frame, the soft breaths escaping Taehyun’s lips and the prairie waves of his hair small details that hinted to the deeper meaning of her story. A story whose message she couldn’t decipher yet, whose ending she couldn’t predict. 

From the gray sky, a single yellow leaf fluttered down from the breeze, swirling and tumbling and sliding until it perched finally, daintily, on the nest of his hair.

She reached a hand out to pluck it, but he shifted suddenly, sighing. She froze, her fingers hovering just over his hair, just barely touching, and her eyes locked firmly on the chiseled marble bones of his nose and brows and cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat.

The world was spinning, dramatically, like a revolving dolly shot, and nothing in it was moving, nothing but the quickening beat of her heart.

She realized her mouth had been hanging slightly open; hastily, she withdrew her hand, stuffing the leaf into her pocket—though she couldn’t explain why—and wondered, with puzzled brows— _ What is this feeling?  _


	11. pups and pirouettes

**a/n** : this was not proofread at all, sorry! i'll go back and edit everything once camp nanowrimo is over

* * *

"Your package arrived!"

"Got it, Marty!" Maylie responded, dropping the litter-scooper and peeling off her gloves. She found Marty leaning against the door to the reception area, beckoning to Taehyun to step over the plastic wall meant for keeping the animals inside. He wore a thick brown hoodie, jeans without his signature rips, and calf-high rain boots.

"Hey," said Maylie. "I don't remember you wearing this earlier."

"I, uh, spilled something," he said, scratching his neck. "I had to change."

"You ready to help out, kid?"

"Yep!" he said, his voice oddly high-pitched.

Marty snickered. Maylie motioned Taehyun to follow her, heading toward the dog socializing room. "Do you think you can brush Carrot's fur?" Maylie said. "She's really tiny, and really friendly; she won't bite, I promise."

"Carrot?"

She opened the door, and immediately the Pomeranian mix in question came running, fur bouncing. Taehyun yelped, backing up against the wall, cursing.

"You'll scare her," Maylie admonished, picking up the small dog and rubbing its belly.

He watched her, his hands still braced against the wall. "Does it have… fleas?"

"No, she's clean! Her fur is just a little messy."

"I don't think he's going to be able to brush her fur, Mayles," said Marty, joining them. "Look at him. He's  _terrified_. Are you sure you told him this is an  _animal_  shelter?"

"She did!" exclaimed Taehyun. "I love animals! I just… had a lot of caffeine earlier!"

Marty rolled her eyes. "Maylie, why don't you and your boy toy go walk the pups? Then he doesn't have to touch them." Her eyes lit up. "Unless they decide they like him. Hah!"

Taehyun stood up straight, although he looked like it pained him to do so. Maylie glanced at him, worried. "Is that okay with you?"

"Of course!"

"Okay," said Marty, and she and Maylie brought out all the leashes and dogs, clipping the leashes onto the dogs at one and and onto Taehyun at the other end. As the dogs milled around him, barking and sniffing and leaping, Taehyun froze as still as he could. His muscles twitched every time a dog touched him, his knuckles tightening to white. "C'mere," Marty said, and beckoned him over to the front doors. "Just walk 'em around the block, maybe twice if they're still bouncing around. Got it? Okay, shoo."

She gave Taehyun a smack between his shoulders, and the dogs, seeing the open door, made a run for the outside, while Taehyun, his face paler than paper towels, struggled not to get stamped over.

Maylie darted over to him, untangling some of the dogs. "I'll go with him," she said to Marty, who just chuckled and waved her hand to grant permission.

The dogs knew which way to go already. Taehyun trembled more than the chihuahuas each time a dog went over to sniff him. Maylie had to jog to keep up with the horde of dogs.

"Take them this way," she said, pointing at a curve with a stretch of overgrown grass. "They'll like it."

"Got it!" he said, a little too loudly, and nearly tripped over the leashes as he tried to move toward her. As they crossed the street, a curious hound mix bumped Taehyun with its nose. Taehyun yelped, and the dog responded in similar fashion, turning its ears back and bending its legs.

"Muffin is just playing," said Maylie, but Taehyun wasn't listening. Muffin hopped around, taking Taehyun's actions as an invitation to play, and enclosed its mouth over his wrist.

Taehyun yelled, shaking his arm wildly. "It bit me! Maylie— it  _bit_  me!" In his sudden panic, he somehow unfastened the harness of leashes. The dogs went flying, zooming around the sidewalk and street and lawns, while Taehyun jumped up and down, shaking his arm.

"Oh my god," said Maylie. She looked between the boy and the dogs, trying not to hyperventilate. "Let me see," she said to Taehyun, and took his wrist, looking for damage. He stared at her, bug-eyed. "You're fine! He didn't bite hard. It's all just slobber, okay? Help me gather the dogs."

She thought about it for another second. "Okay, Taehyun, just stand here, okay? I'll bring back the dogs. Just… don't move and don't freak out, okay?"

She still didn't think it was such a great plan, given the way he seemed not to be breathing anymore, but she sprinted off to reel in the dogs one-by-one anyway. "Come on, Carrot," she said, extracting the fluffy dog from a bush, wincing when the burrs stuck in its fur dug into her arm as she picked it up. Each time she reattached a dog, Taehyun paled by a shade. The last dog to be caught was a large, long-haired mutt who had taken the opportunity to go nap under some family's parked car.

Maylie squatted by the car, patting the ground. "C'mere, buddy." She made kissy noises. "Come on, buddy. Our new friend is waiting." She sighed, glancing back at him.

"I'm fine," he said.

Maylie crouched lower, reaching under the car to grab the dog's collar, and tugged. The dog whined, shaking its head, its ears flopping. "Come on." She tugged harder, and the dog, complaining, finally moved, trudging out like Eeyore. She grabbed its leash and ruffled its ears, cooing. When she brought the dog back to the rest of them, and properly secured it, she transferred the harness over to herself, relieving Taehyun of dog duty.

For the rest of the walk, he followed after her, always keeping a bit of a distance between himself and the nearest dog.

"Why'd you say you like animals if you're terrified?"

He cleared his throat. "Uh… um, I dunno."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, Mr. Scaredy Cat."

He scuffed his boots on the sidewalk.

"Is it all animals or just dogs?"

"Huh? Oh. All… all animals."

Carrot barked. "I agree," said Maylie.

* * *

The pain shot up her leg as she leaned into her lunge, her body cursing her for a day of no practice. The hardwood floor of the deserted dance practice room was hard and cold, and she shivered as she slid out into her splits, the chill seeping through her sweatpants. She reached forward flattening herself next to her knee, then leaned back, feeling the strain on her back. When she looked up again she saw movement in the mirror, a visitor paused by the door, looking inside.

"Hi," she said, standing up.

Taehyun's hand went to his neck, his eyebrows jumping up. "Oh, hi, Maylie."

She walked toward him, her socks padding softly across the wood. "What's up?"

"I was just passing by," he said. "I didn't know you practice here."

She shrugged. "Yeah. The ballet class isn't enough practice, and I'm not on a team anymore, so I come here sometimes." She twisted her waist, stretching. The hem of her cropped hoodie brushed softly against her stomach. "Are you going home now?"

"No," he said. "I mean, yeah. I was about to. Can you do the, uh, the spinny things?"

She laughed. "Pirouettes?"

"Aren't those the snacks that are like straws with chocolate inside?"

"The snacks—!" She gawked at him. "No. Here." She backed up a few steps, set her feet into fifth position, and demonstrated a series of pirouettes for him.

"Whoa," he said. "That's so cool! Can you teach me how?"

She laughed. "Try it."

He kicked off his sneakers, and tried copying her position. "Like this, right?"

"Uh…." She lifted his arms higher, moved his elbows and his wrists. She felt his warmth even through the thick fabric of his sweatshirt, averted her eyes as he watched her, his expression studious and serious. "Now turn on your front foot," she said. "Like this."

He swung his arms wildly around, trying to spin. His socked foot slipped on the glossy wood floor as he turned. In less than a second he was on the floor, rubbing his tailbone with a wince. Maylie gasped. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine I'm fine," he said, grinning.

"Are you sure?" She reached out a hand, and helped him get up. "Maybe that's enough spinning, then."

He shook his head quickly. "No, no, I'm great, I swear! Can you teach me again?"

His eyes were big and earnest, so she gave in. "Alright."

She fixed his starting position again, and giggled as he spun wildly, his limbs flailing. When he saw her laughing, he pouted. "Come on, stop clowning me."

She covered her mouth. "Sorry." She nudged his feet into place, making sure his legs were bent and angled properly. "Keep your arms here the whole time," she said, demonstrating. "And keep your chin up. Like you have a string through your spine and it's being pulled toward the ceiling."

He nodded earnestly, and tried again. Still, though, he lost his balance, his foot sliding across the floor as the rest of him fell backwards, right into Maylie.

The two of them tumbled to the floor. As she tried to stabilize him, she'd stumbled back, her hands pushing against his shoulders in vain. His back landed on her abdomen, and she stared at him in shock for a moment, both of them thrown straight onto their butts on the hardwood floor.

He jolted when he realized he'd knocked into her, and tried, struggling, to sit up straight. She laughed and brushed off his shoulders, pushing him softly off her. "Maybe this is why you're the film guy and I'm the ballerina, huh."

He laughed, too. "Yeah. But I really did want to learn."

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Mutually beneficial, then. You help me with the semester project and I'll teach you how to do pirouettes! And once I get my employee discount for Flower Tea I'll help you with that, too!"

He touched her ballet slippers. "Don't ballerinas wear the other shoes? The ones with ribbons?"

"Yeah," she said. "I have them. I was just stretching when you walked in." She remembered then what she'd come here to do before he'd interrupted her practice. But for some reason, she didn't really want him to leave. At least, not quite yet.

"Are you better now?" she said. "You're not scarred from yesterday, are you?"

His ears flushed red, and he looked away, at the clock hung above the mirrors on the far wall, ducking his head, his hand flying to the back of his neck. "I'm fine! I really— I really like animals, I promise! They're just… a little bit scary."

"A little bit."

He glanced at her, and when he saw that she was trying not to start laughing, he relaxed. "I swear next time I won't let all the dogs loose."

"Okay, silly," she said.

"When do you want to meet up next? I know yesterday I didn't let us get that much done."

She pursed her lips. "Tomorrow, maybe? At Flower Tea? I'll be working there around noon."

He nodded eagerly. "And I promise I won't tell anyone about us hanging out!"

A wave of guilt hit her. "Really? T-thank you, Taehyun."

He didn't seem to notice. "Can you show me how to do the pirou-sets again?"

She grinned. "Of course."

* * *

After her dance practice, she walked toward her locker, which meant finding her way through the maze again. She was used to it by now, memorizing the loops and dead ends and the strange vases that marked the secret passageways and the special rooms. The hallways were strange at night, all the natural sunlight that filtered through the sunroof during the school day gone, replaced by the harsh spotlights that now lit up ovals here and there down the rounded hallways.

She hadn't even noticed that there were lights in the ceilings at first, the harsh metal hidden behind the hanging spider-plants and draped ivy. The scattered soil and fallen leaves were gone as she hurried through the halls, her backpack and dance tote hanging from her shoulders. The custodial staff had tidied the halls while she'd been dancing. Ahead, the school library's soft yellow lights stood out from the pattern of darkness and harsh brightness. As she neared it, someone stepped out.

She saw that that person was Joseph when he stepped into a patch of light, and he saw her too.

"Maylie!" he said, waving with a smile split across his face. He had a bit of stubble today, and the lighting made needle-like shadows across his jaw. "Why are you here?"

She explained, and then asked him the same question, looking into the library to see if it would reveal any answers. The lights inside were flickering off one bookshelf at a time.

Joseph shrugged. "They just kicked me out, since it's six now. I had to wait for my dad."

She tilted her head. "Don't you have a car?"

He wrung his arms. "Yeah, but, I, uh, wrecked it. Like last week." He grimaced. "My dad has been making me carpool with him since then, since my car's still in the shop."

"Oh. Why'd you crash it?"

He looked away. "I wasn't being careful, I guess. Oh! By the way." He opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I hope this isn't a weird thing to ask or anything, but… are you free for Thanksgiving?"

"Thanksgiving?" she thought about it. She doubted her family would be up for a Thanksgiving dinner this year, but still, her mother was the kind to insist on family traditions such as this. "M-maybe."

"Because my family is having a really big Thanksgiving dinner and…" He stuck his hands into his pockets. "I guess me and my family don't really get along well. Like my mom and my dad are divorced, and they practically hate each other. But everyone in my family always acts so… proper all the time." He spat out that word, wrinkling his nose. "Do you know what I mean? Like they always have to act like they're the  _most_  proper, the  _most_  cultured. If they hate each other they don't say it, they just slide in little comments here and there, make you feel like pure shit. Like you belong in their eco-friendly backyard compost instead of at the dinner table, or not even." He looked at her, his voice almost shaking, but at the same time emotionless. Like he didn't care, or he was trying to hide that he did.

"Oh," she said.

"You can't even talk about what you really want to say. If there's any family drama, any scandals, anything they can roast you with, you hide it under the rug. If it's a problem in your household, only your household can know about it. Everything is a private matter. You know?"

His family sounded like a mess, the way he put it, but Maylie understood. She thought to her father's lectures about what she couldn't tell strangers, her mother's reminders of what couldn't escape the house. And she wanted to say she got it. "No," she said. "Not really."

His face fell. "I guess you wouldn't," he said. "You seem like you've got your life all under control."

She wanted to laugh. Hadn't he seen her at the rehab facility the other day? Hadn't he seen her crying face, heard the receptionist spill her secrets? But, she guessed, to people with messed-up lives, everyone else looks perfectly put together.

"Anyway," he said. "They said I can bring a friend, and I really don't want to deal with all of them by myself. Please, Maylie?"

"I'll see," she said. "I'll check with my mom." Maybe viewing another family's drama would make hers seem not as bad. Or maybe it would do the opposite. Whatever, she thought. "I'll really try to go. Since we're friends now."

"We are, huh," he said, and grinned. "My dad's waiting. I'll see you on Monday!" He hitched his backpack strap onto his other shoulder, and waved, hurrying off toward the parking lot. "Thanks!"


	12. fright and falling

Flower Tea hit its slump hours around three in the afternoon. Only Maylie and Gavin were working, and Gavin seemed to find absolute pleasure in ordering her around. He'd man the register while she made an order, then turned around and snapped at her for not keeping an eye on the customers. When she was at the register, he'd hiss at her that she'd been working much too slowly and all the customers were growing impatient. When she looked at the customers, all of them were talking or on their phones, all too absorbed to possibly be impatient.

But she just smiled every time Gavin reprimanded her, promising to improve and do better. Each interaction with him left her drained, but when Taehyun arrived, at about a quarter to four, smiling his bright, lopsided smile at her, it was like all the weight had been lifted. "Hey, Maylie," he said, and she waved back happily, not even checking if anyone nearby recognized them. He took a seat at a table by the window, and the moment she finished with the sole other customer in the store, she hurried over to him, pulling out the other chair and taking a seat. He has a smudge on his cheek, and when she pointed it out, he blushed.

"My mom made me help out in the garden earlier," he said. "I wish she'd told me I had dirt on my face."

"It's cute," Maylie blurted, then backtracked. "Do you like gardening?"

"Yeah," he said. "I used to like it more, but one time I tried planting my own sunflowers in our backyard and some deer came and ate it." He frowned. "The sunflower had gotten to be taller than me, but when I found it after, it had been cut in half. Anyway, now I just garden when my mom asks me to."

"Oh," she said. "Back when we had a garden at our old house, my mom liked to plant some vegetables and my sister and I would help out. For some reason the cucumbers and corn tasted better when we grew them ourselves."

He laughed. "Yeah, that's true, huh."

There was a pause, a silence, and then Maylie remembered the purpose of his coming here. "I'll go get my laptop," she said quickly. "It's in the back—hold on."

She hurried toward the storage room, where she'd dumped her backpack. It was dark in there, and she dug through her bag hastily, not wanting to keep Taehyun waiting or a new customer unattended. She found her laptop finally, and left the storage room.

But in the dim corridor, she bumped into Gavin, who had been lounging on a stool, a magazine in his hands. "Maylie," he said, his voice sour. "What the hell are you doing? Didn't I tell you to never leave the shop unattended? Are you trying to get fucking fired?"

She shook her head quickly. "I'm so sorry! I was just getting something, Gavin."

He rose from the stool. "I'm getting real fucking tired of your inadequacy," he said. "Is this all girls are now? Dumb fucking airheads?" He threw the magazine to the ground.

She jumped, taking a step backward.

"Are you mute? You can't talk?" He shoved her arm. "Huh?"

She trembled. "I'm sorry."

He wasn't a rather tall man, but he still towered over her, the dim light of the hallway casting sharp shadows across his lowered face and ratty facial hair. She took another step back and her foot hit the wall.

"Fucking females," he said, jabbing her with the pointed end of his thumb. She flinched at the sharpness of his untrimmed nail. "How did you even get fucking hired? I guess it shouldn't be a surprise that Debra bitch can't run a business either."

She clutched the laptop to her chest, her arms wrapped around it like it was a shield and also a teddy bear. He grabbed her chin, his fingers squeezing either side of her jaw. His breath smelled sour, and all of him radiated a thin stench of B.O. She pulled away, but there wasn't much room left to go. Her back bumped into the wall. He grabbed her again, and she squirmed, her eyes welling up. That didn't help; the tears just blurred her vision.

"A fucking crybaby, too," said Gavin, and Maylie tried to knock his hand away, to shrug him off.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking. "P-please stop."

"Stop?" he said, gasping. "What the hell am I doing? You're the fucking problem here."

She needed this job. She'd interviewed at ten different places when she got here, and this shop was the only one that extended an offer. But her interviewer hadn't been Gavin, it had been the shop's usually absentee owner. Still, Gavin had power. And he could fire her.

So she didn't knee him. She blurted, "G-gavin. I think I just heard a customer."

He growled, kicked her shin. "Then why are you still fucking in here, retard?"

She ran. He didn't let her go easy, but the moment she got out from his hold she sprinted down the short hallway and burst through the curtains constituting a door. She'd forgotten that Taehyun was waiting. He looked up at once, his brows going up as he noticed something was different. He pushed himself out of the chair, hurried over to her as she took slower, unsteady steps. Gavin wouldn't hurt her while Taehyun was here. Or she was pretty sure, at least.

"Maylie?" said Taehyun, his voice rising in worry. He touched her shoulders, his hands gentle. Gentle, but she still felt his squeezing. "You're shaking," he said. "Maylie, what's wrong?"

She realized she was still crying. Two tears dropped down her cheeks, one after the other, catching a hold in the nooks along her nose. Taehyun lifted one arm, wrapping his sleeve over his hand, and dabbed at her face. She shook her head instead of responding. She couldn't find her voice. She didn't know what to say.

He pulled her into a hug, his hand massaging circles into her back. She realized how much she was still shaking then, when she was pressed against his still, calm embrace. Her laptop was still cradled in her arms, caught in the middle of the hug. She tried to breathe. "I'm fine," she said, into his chest. She looked up at him, and he let her go, but his knit brows and worried eyes showed he didn't quite believe her.

"You can talk to me," he said, and they took seats at the counter. "I can help. Or try to help. Did someone do something to you?" He leaned toward her, slightly, watching her and listening intently. He had his hand on her wrist, his thumb tracing circles absentmindedly. She tried to match his rhythm in her breathing.

"Gavin," she said, whispering. Could he hear them now? Was he watching?

"Who's Gavin?"

Slowly, she explained. When she mention his attack, she found herself crying again, and kept glancing behind her, back at that hallway. And as she talked, he grew angrier.

"Report him," he said. "That's despicable." He stood up, pushed away his chair. "Where is he? I want a word."

Maylie grabbed his arm. "Please, Taehyun, don't! I don't want to be fired."

"You don't… He assaulted you, Maylie!"

She shook her head fervently. "Please. Please don't tell."

He glared at the direction of the back hall, seething. "That's a fucking crime! He's not allowed to do that. That's literally assault!"

She pleaded with him. "Taehyun, please don't tell."

His hand closed into a fist, but then he looked back at her, and his face fell. "Okay," he said, finally, and smoothed down the hair on the back of her head. He sighed. "I won't tell."

* * *

The music students all hurried off the moment the last bell rang, none of them willing to be late for the quite early call time of tonight's concert. Jenna had been bugging Maylie and Saf all the previous week to go. "If you miss it we're breaking up," she'd said, harrumphing. "If you walk in late I'm disowning both of you. I'm cutting you out of my will. You're no longer my children."

"If anything, you're the child," said Saf.

But neither of them had planned anything for that evening, so Saf and Maylie decided to just study in the school library while they waited for the concert to start. They took a table in a somewhat secluded part of the library, next to a window and nestled between two tall bookshelves. It was only a little past two when they arrived, setting out their calculus textbooks and notebooks.

"D'you think he'll test us on matrices?" Maylie said, and Saf shrugged.

"We only started them last class so… maybe," she said. "Let's just go over them anyway."

At around half past three, Maylie stood up, stretching, and excused herself for the restroom. On her way back, she realized that Taehyun was in the library, too— taking a phone call at a table by himself, separated from her and Saf's table by only a bookshelf. He saw her when she walked past and his eyes widened. Maylie glanced quickly in Saf's direction, and made a small wave at him before hurrying out of his sight.

As soon as she sat down again, the library's door opened and closed rather loudly. She jumped, and looked up to see Joseph sauntering in, his bag with its worn strap slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He grinned when he saw her, practically skipping over, and dumped his backpack on their table. Saf glared at him through narrowed eyes, and scooted her chair over away from him. "Just got back from your drug dealer?" she said, and Maylie choked.

His eyes darted over to her before returning to Saf. "N-no. What are you guys up to?"

"Studying for the calc test," said Maylie, mustering up a smile. She moved her things over to make room for him.

"There's a calc test?" he said.

"I know, big surprise, after you skipped the last quiz, right?" said Saf. "Do you even have any school supplies in that bag or is it just empty Fireballs?"

Joseph frowned. "You're hurting me." He looked at Maylie again, and said, "I do have books and stuff in my bag! I just, uh, forgot them at home today."

Saf rolled her eyes and went back to her work. "Well, this is a library. Go ask the librarian for the textbook and don't ask to use ours."

"Aren't you being mean?" said Maylie, as Joseph slunk away to go do so.

Saf shook her head, her hair bouncing. "People like him like to do the bare minimum and mooch off others. It's tough love, honey."

Getting his own copy of the textbook didn't keep Joseph from talking to them, though. He kept asking Maylie what chapters they were on, what problems the homeworks covered, how to do problems, what happened in class. Maylie answered all of his questions, but with each one Saf seemed to grow more annoyed. Eventually, she grabbed her water bottle, said, "I'm gonna refill this. Maylie, punch him if he tries anything," and left.

The moment she was out of earshot, Joseph flung down his pencil and folded his arms on the table, shivering. "Oh, God, she's so scary," he said. "I thought I was going to die."

Maylie laughed. "Saf? She's not scary, just a little blunt and protective."

"Did you ask your parents about Thanksgiving?" said Joseph. "Can you come?"

She hadn't. In fact, since the incident on Saturday, she hadn't been thinking of much else. Or rather, she'd been busy trying to forget it all. Just the thought of Gavin's leer, now, made a cold sweat run down her forehead. "It slipped my mind," she said, apologizing. "I'll ask them as soon as I can."

"Okay," he said, "Because my grandmom has to know like two weeks in advance in order to prepare."

She nodded. "I'll ask soon, I swear."

"Were you busy because of your sister?" said Joseph. "Did something happen to her?"

Well, something happened. "No, she's fine, I think," she said. "I'm going to go see her tomorrow."

"Oh really? So why is she there? Did she drink? Or was it meth? Heroin?"

She squirmed. "I don't know," she lied.

Something fell with a bam, and the two of them looked up. A heavy book lay on the floor, the pages bent, and there was a hole in the bookshelf from where it fell. Through the hole they saw Taehyun's wide eyes, and he blurted, "Sorry… my bad." He left the little window, and came around to their side. Maylie picked up the book, flattening out the pages and setting it back in its place.

"H-hey, Maylie," said Taehyun. "Hi, Joseph."

"What's up, Lars Larsson," said Joseph.

Taehyun nodded and waved a book in his hand. "I was just trying to get this one. The history of, uh, constructed languages. I'm researching for a film project." He glanced at the three textbooks on the table, and Saf's empty seat. "What are you guys doing?"

She glanced at Joseph.

"Talking," he said, at the same time she answered, "Calculus."

"Oh, hey, Maylie," said Taehyun. "Are you free the weekend before Thanksgiving? The art museum just opened a new gallery. It's relevant to your semester project and it'll be really useful I think."

Her mouth opened, then closed, and she glanced at Joseph, who stared at Taehyun in open-mouthed shock. Was this him asking her out? He couldn't be. And he didn't say specifically that he wanted them to go  _together_. Maybe he just meant her, by herself.

"I—"

He also seemed to realized what he was asking just as she did. His ears went red, and he rubbed his arm sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Maylie's stomach turned. So he did mean together. He watched her, his muscles all tense, the air heater ruffling strands of his hair like they were bonito flakes, and she blurted, "I'm free. I'll go."


	13. music, mayhem, mess

**A/N:** Again, this was not proofread at all. Sorry for the quality, I just wanted to get it out and done.

* * *

The sky was dark when the band and orchestra concert began. Maylie and Saf took seats right at the front of the theater, Saf mumbling something about "Now she can't say we didn't support her."

The band director, a tall, skinny, average looking man, introduced himself when the lights dimmed. His voice was somewhat strained, like he was determined to stand and speak properly, no matter how much it disdained and pained him. When he finished his introduction speech, the audience clapped politely and the first ensemble entered the stage, the concert band.

Maylie remembered Jenna lifting her nose at the "lowly" concert band, made up of freshman and untalented upperclassmen. "I skipped concert band," she'd said multiple times, flipping her short hair over her shoulder.

Their setlist was forgettable, although not unpleasant, and soon the director was back, explaining the cultural and personal significance of the first piece the symphonic band would be playing.

Maylie nudged Saf. "There she is!" she hissed.

Amid the orderly chaos of the concert band members going off stage and the symphonic band members coming on, Jenna zoomed back and forth at the far end of the stage, placing sheet music on stands scattered across the percussion section and gesturing angrily at fellow section members.

Saf lips curled up on one side. "I was in drumline once," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "Yeah, I don't miss all that."

The band director turned around, his back to the audience, and the whole theater fell silent. He counted off with his baton, and the music started with a boom. Jenna, in the back, held large mallets in her hands, her usually small figure appearing even smaller amid the circle of large timpani drums. Her face was screwed up in concentration, staring unblinkingly at the director's rhythmic baton. The flutes picked up, and then the piccolos, and Maylie finally understood, to an extent, what the director meant when he'd said the piece represented a family's adventure in a Yosemite meadow.

When the ensemble finished their set, they filed off the stage obediently. Except Jenna, who ran back and forth across the percussion section again, grabbing the sheet music and moving the wood block back to the auxiliary box and replacing the mallets into the mallet bag.

The beginning orchestra was next. When they were done, and the doors to the audience seats opened for the intermission, Saf's phone began buzzing.

"Yeah?" she said. She rolled her eyes. "We're at the front, idiot. Yeah, the front-ass row, bitch."

Jenna found them and hung up, squeezing past the families and students between them and the aisle. She plopped into the empty seat next to Saf, and said, "OMG, you guys came."

"Why wouldn't we have come?" said Maylie, and Saf added, "I guess you don't believe anything we say, huh."

When the intermission ended, it was the advanced orchestra's turn to take the stage. Immediately, one musician caught Maylie's eye— and Jenna's, too.

"Grr," said Jenna.

Laurie saw them, too, as she took her seat at the front of the stage, and winked. She took her seat with the grace of a princess. Even in bland concert-wear, she managed to stun, her skirt and blouse more beautiful than those of any other player, her hair slicked back into a low ponytail, her red lips smirking. Jenna's fumes were her fuel, and Laurie avoided her gaze like a model in a photoshoot.

For the rest of the concert, Jenna's mood seemed to sour. Saf complained to Maylie, "If she was gonna be moody anyway, why'd we bother to come?"

When the concert was over, they filed out of the theater, into the courtyard where the musicians mingled among friends and family, roses were presented by supportive fans, and the director wandered around shaking hands and accepting praise, always with that awkward, pained expression.

Jenna's host family was there, a middle-aged Indian couple whose two sons had graduated from Vineyard only a few years ago. They smiled at Saf and Maylie and remarked on the changes they'd noticed since their sons had been students.

"There's much more green now," said Mrs. Thomas.

"Still just as confusing," said her husband. "We got lost on our way here and had to ask a student for directions!"

Maylie agreed. But, she realized, she'd slowly been getting lost less and less, learning her way around the curves and corners of the labyrinth. As for the botanical code, she'd been thinking about it often, the puzzle pieces always floating around in the back of her mind, slowly, slowly coming together one-by-one.

"What's up, losers?" said a cocky voice. It was Laurie, of course, and she smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Thomas innocently.

"Look," said Jenna. "She bullies me."

"She seems like a very nice girl," said Mrs. Thomas, and Laurie smirked at Jenna.

"Ugh."

From behind Laurie came a tall Hispanic couple. They looked like the type of people that were memorialized in marble statues in public parks with a polished bronze plaque enumerating their achievements. The woman had her hand on the man's outstretched elbow, a gold necklace around her throat, dipping into the neckline of her sharp black blouse, baby hairs flattened along her hairline. The man's hair was salt-and-pepper, his thick glasses threatening to slip down his nose. They could have been none other than Laurie's parents.

Her father put his hand on her shoulder, smiling at everyone. "You must be Laurel's friends." He noticed Jenna's clothes, and asked, "Are you in the orchestra as well?"

"Symphonic band, actually," said Jenna.

"Oh, and what do you play?"

"Percussion."

"The drums… oh, I see."

That made Jenna frown. "Percussion is a lot more than drums, you know."

He chuckled. "Of course. And what chair are you?"

She puffed up her chest. "First chair."

He nodded. "Ah, yes, Laurel is first chair, too. The first chair viola, and it didn't come easily to her, either."

Laurie narrowed her eyes. " _Dad._ "

Her mother smiled. "Well, we've completely forgotten to make introductions! I'm Gloria Jimenez, Laurel's mother." She patted her husband's chest. "And this is her father, Albert Sanchez." She chuckled and looked at Mr. and Mrs. Thomas expectantly.

They promptly introduced themselves as well, and after a few minutes of small talk, it became apparent that Laurie's father was a professor at the local university, and her mother was a busy lawyer. They talked like they had control, and Maylie saw that it was true. For the first time, Laurie didn't seem like the top person in the room.

Maylie's phone rang. The caller ID sent her heartbeat skyrocketing. "Excuse me," she said, and hurried off to a quiet part of the courtyard to answer. "Yes, Mom?"

"Maylie, where are you?"

"At school. The band concert."

"Go to your work right now. The tea place."

"R-right now?"

"Yes, your father and I are on our way there. The police called us."

She could hear her own heart beating. "I'll-I'll go over there right now. Okay." She hung up, and stared at the crowd of people. She suddenly felt exhausted, like she hadn't slept in days. Weaving through the crowd, she located Saf and tugged on her sleeve.

"Hey," she whispered, apologetically, "Can you drive me to Flower Tea right now?"

"Yeah, of course." The girls bid goodbye to everyone, and Jenna threw them a glare for leaving her alone with Laurie and the adults, but Saf ignored her.

However, she paid special attention to Maylie. "You look shaken," she said. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"I'm fine!" Maylie said. "I swear."

"Are you sure?" said Saf, touching her hand to Maylie's forehead. "Are you sick? Do I need to beat someone up?"

"No, no," Maylie assured her.

They arrived at Flower Tea in no time, but to her it felt like ages. A police car was parked in the lot, the lights off, and one of Maylie's parents' cars was parked outside the shop's front door. The lights were on, past the usual closing time, and she could make out more than a few figures inside. As she got out of the car, Saf asked her another time if she was okay, what was going on. When Maylie assured her again all was well, Saf sighed. "Stay safe," she said. "G'night."

* * *

Inside was commotion. Her parents argued with a police officer, Debra the store owner talked sternly with Gavin, and Taehyun, alone, jumped out of his seat when he saw Maylie enter, already apologizing. Her suspicions were confirmed.

The police officer looked up. "Is this her?"

Her parents spun around and hurried over to her. "Maylie!" said her mother. "What's going on? Did that man really hit you?"

She stepped back, her stomach turning. "Uh…"

Her mom leaned closer. In a lowered voice, she said, "Did he touch you? You know, in  _those_ places?"

Her eyes widened. "No!" she said, quickly. "No. What's happening? Why is the police here?"

Mrs. Yang's eyes flickered over to Taehyun. "That boy called them. Do you know him?"

"He's- he's my classmate," she said. "From Vineyard."

"Don't let this happen again," she said. "Do you know that incidents like this end up on your record?"

"Maybe we shouldn't let her work," her father said to her mother. "It's not safe for her. If we don't keep an ey on her we're bad parents."

Her mother nodded thoughtfully. "The same thing happened with Amelie," she said. "Maylie, we're not going to let you end up like your sister."

"Mom!"

Her father turned to her mother. "We shouldn't let the police interview her. If he does, this will really go on her record. She still has to go to college and get a job!"

It was like she'd gone back to being a child, much less a few months from turning eighteen. She had to keep herself from stomping her feet in frustration. "Dad!" She blinked back tears. "The situation already happened; just let me handle it. I'm not a baby."

Taehyun stood up, his chair screeching. "Please, Mrs. Yang, Mr. Yang! Don't make her quit this job."

Maylie kicked his foot, alarmed. "Taehyun!"

He glanced at her, and for a moment his determination wavered, but his expression hardened again. "I promise I'll watch out for her! I'll even apply to work here just in case! Please."

"Maylie," said her mother. "Is he your boyfriend?"

She gaped. "No! Mom, don't say that. He's not!"

"What's his name?"

"Lar—" he started.

"Taehyun," Maylie said.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm Taehyun Larsson. We're friends from school; we're in the same film classes."

She could tell her parents still didn't trust him— they weren't happy that he'd reported the incident. Still, as they asked him more questions about who he was and how he knew her, they seemed to smile more and their questions moved from investigative to friendly.

"Gavin deserves to go away for that," said Taehyun. "My parents are lawyers; if nothing is done I'll call them!"

"No, no, no," said Maylie's father. "Don't bother them."

"It's what's right!"

"Thank you," said Maylie's mother, "But we can't accept your offer."

The policeman interrupted their conversation. "Miss Yang," he said. "I'll need to have you come over here for a few questions." He narrowed his eyes at Taehyun. "You can go home, young man. Your part is done."

"O-okay, sir," he said. As he left, Maylie sent a nervous look to her parents and followed the officer.

The man had a thick mustache and a disapproving look knit into his forehead. "So Mr. Larsson tells me your manager Mr. Leung physically assaulted you?"

She didn't want to answer this. "Um," she said.

"Mr. Leung tells me that this didn't happen and you're falsely reporting him because he told you off for unprofessional behavior."

Her blood burned. If anything,  _he_ was the unprofessional one. "That's not true," she said, trying her best to keep her voice even. "What did Taeh— I mean, Lars tell you?"

The officer made a  _hmph_ sound and relayed the story he heard. "And I'm told that you did nothing to fight back."

"I tried," she said, but he was right. She hadn't really. The fear of causing more trouble for herself was stronger than the fear of getting violated.

The officer gave her a distrustful look and said, "You know, it's also unlawful to lie about things. Did your friend Mr. Larsson put you up to this?"

"Excuse me?" she said. She tightened her fists. "He didn't put me up to anything. He's telling the truth."

"You don't have to cover for him."

She wanted to storm out of the building. "I'm not! He's telling the truth and I asked him not to report because I was scared and this is proving why."

The man made notes on his clipboard and looked at her over the rim of his glasses. "Well, young lady, if you're telling the truth then you won't mind answering a few questions, right?"

She did mind, but knew she didn't really have a choice. "Okay," she said.

As she answered the questions and waited while the officer scribbled down his notes, she looked around the shop. Her parents discussed among themselves, Taehyun watched her intently, and Debra spoke sternly to Gavin while he glared in Maylie's direction. She shivered.

When the officer was satisfied, he let her go and called over her parents and Debra for a talk. Maylie was alone now, and suddenly the air felt ten degrees colder. She knew Gavin was watching her. She knew he was angry. But she didn't dare look. She gripped the side of her chair, feeling the thin metal edge dig into the meat of her fingers. She closed her eyes, and the memory of his sour breath and rough hands rushed back. She opened her eyes.

Gavin was in front of her, at her table, leaning across it, his expression red. She jumped.

"Bitch," he said. "You couldn't handle a talking-to and now you do this? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

She tried to push her chair farther from the table. "I didn't do anything."

He slammed the table, cursing, and she wanted to run. Wanted to shout for help. But just like that moment in the back hall, she was frozen, glued to her spot in pure fear. He lifted his hand.

The officer's words rang in her ears.  _You did nothing to fight back._ And she stood up.

Gavin froze.

"You're not helping yourself," she said. She knocked his hand away. "This is assault."

He growled. Gavin grabbed her wrist, pulling her roughly. "I don't think you fucking know what assault is, bitch."

She tried to tug her hand away. His grip was tight and wet, and she winced. "Let go of me."

"The fuck I will—"

"Get off of her!" The police officer strode over and shoved Gavin back. "Watch yourself." He glared at Maylie. "What are you doing?"

She rubbed her wrist. "I'm sorry."

"She provoked me," Gavin exclaimed. "She's disrespecting me."

Debra strode over, and crossed her arms. Speaking out loud for the first time that day, she glared at Gavin and said, "As I was saying, Officer: he's fired."


	14. sisters, misters, blisters

"So I heard from Mom and Dad yesterday that you got assaulted."

Maylie's stomach dropped. "They told you?"

Amelie leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Yeah, they had to tell me it was all my influence or something."

Maylie sighed. "It wasn't assault, exactly-"

"That's what a victim would say," she said. "Listen, Maylie, you have to be careful, okay?" She twisted her mouth. "Back when I was your age, I wasn't careful, and I let boys walk all over me."

"But you fought back."

"Okay, yeah, but sometimes even using all your strength doesn't help, especially when he's six feet and has two of his buddies helping him pin you down." Her expression darkened. "But whatever. That's old news. Anyway, if you let yourself be a doormat, they'll keep taking advantage of you. Fight your best fight, use the fucking pepper spray I got you, and stand up for yourself."

Maylie made a face.

"What's that?"

"Huh?"

"That face. You'd rather get stepped on than stand up for yourself, huh. Look, the moment you see red flags, fucking run. I bet you got bad vibes from that guy from day one yet you just let it slide. Am I right?"

"Well..."

"Yeah. So if you'd rather not get murdered before you graduate start growing a pair. I didn't follow that advice and, well, look where I am now, huh."

"I'm not gonna take drugs; I just want to get paid!" Maylie retorted.

"Well if you want money then stop trying to buy me fucking Les Mis tickets it's a waste!"

"It's not a waste if it makes you happy."

"What if you saving your money makes me even happier?"

Maylie must have let her feelings show, because Amelie huffed and rolled her eyes. "Anyway," she said. "How's school? Have any friends?"

"Of course I have friends!" Maylie retorted. "I have like... Two. Or five. I dunno."

"Tell me about them. Are they nerds?"

"They're not nerds!" she said, then thought about it. "Actually, they kinda are, I guess. Saf and Jenna are both really smart. They're in my AP Calc class. And then there's Anna and Laurie. I counted them as half friends because I don't talk to them that much but Laurie is like genius smart I think. And she's really pretty and popular too."

"Is she nice?"

"Well..." Maylie considered. She'd helped her in the lunchline, and now that she thought about it, actually quite a few other times, too, even though most were done in a backhanded sort of way.

"So no."

"She is! She's a good person I think, but she likes to pretend she's not. I dunno."

"Uh. Okaaay. That's two plus two halves which is three friends. Who are the other two?"

"One is Joseph. He's... a mess. He actually comes here, too but just for appointments."

"He comes here? Guess he is a mess, then. Who's the last one?"

"Tae-" She bit her tongue, checking around her out of habit. Amelie raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Taehyun," she said. What did she have to hide from her sister? "He's a boy from school."

Amelie snorted. "Yeah, I got that part. And?"

Maylie hesitated. "Okay," she said. "He's the one who reported the assault thingy. And... I know I'm being dumb but like, here's the thing. He's really nice. Like, he's so, so sweet and smart and understanding but like." She looked Amelie in the eyes. "He scares me a little. I mean-" she backtracked. "It's not him who's scary. It's being friends with him. Hanging out with him. Having other people see me with him."

"Is there something wrong with him? Why the hell is he scary, Maylie?"

"I-" How could she explain it? Every explanation she could come up with sounded stupid and lame. "There's nothing wrong with him- that's the problem!" she said. "He's perfect, and he's popular, and every time I so much as look at him at school I get death glares and threats and that one time I walked into class with him everyone stared and my friends yelled at me and everyone made such a big deal and I really can't handle that, Amelie, what do I do? I even asked him not to tell anyone when we hang out!"

"Stop being a coward, for one."

She gave her a pained look. "I'm not strong like you. I can't handle drama like that."

"Well, why do you care so much? If you don't like what it takes to be friends with him than don't be fucking friends with him. It's not that hard."

"But he's helping me with my project and he's just so nice. Like he's afraid of animals and doesn't drink boba and he told the police even when I asked him not to but he's soft and sweet and-"

"Do you like him?"

"Do I-" Maylie choked. "No!"

"You're probably just all flustered because he's cute, right?"

"He's not-"

"He's not cute?"

Maylie frowned. "Okay, he is cute. Like, really cute. And he's tall and dresses nice and smells good."

"Then tell everyone to stop acting like you're seducing him because he's clearly out of your league."

Maylie gawked. "A-Amelie! Shut up!"

" _Kidding_. Anyway, when's the wedding?"

"Amelie! I'm leaving. I hate you."

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry. Anyway, suck it up. Like why in the hell would you tell someone to keep your friendship a secret. Hmph. Anyway." She glanced at the analog clock hung on the far wall. "Time's almost up, I guess." Her expression turned serious. "I promise I'll be out soon, okay? And you can even buy those expensive-ass Les Mis tickets if you want, because I'm trying really hard and my counselor says I'm really close to getting released."

Maylie's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah, you bet your ass I'll be out by Thanksgiving! I'm not missing the mashed potatoes for my life."

The guard on duty ended their meeting right on the dot, and as Maylie left the room, her sister retreating in the opposite direction, the smile stayed on her face even as the door shut behind her. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to joke around with her sister, to say things and not mean anything except goodwill, to have a whole conversation and not break down crying. Except now she felt like crying because- Amelie was finally coming home! And if she could be home for Thanksgiving, that probably meant she'd even be home for Christmas and for New Year's and if the counselor said she was doing well maybe that meant that she'd do well enough to go back to school and get a degree and be a successful adult.

Her head spun with the possibilities. She almost didn't even notice when Joseph jumped up from the chair by the receptionist's desk.

"Maylie!" He shouted, ecstatic, and the receptionist glared at him.

"Sit down," she said. To Maylie, she sighed and apologized. "Finally you're here," she said. "You know he comes here every day, right? He comes and sits and asks whether you're here and then steals some Jolly Ranchers from the bowl."

"No," Joseph retorted. "I come here for sessions. You're making me sound bad."

The receptionist ignored him. "Honey, no, you come because I won't reveal her appointment information."

Joseph grumbled, and then turned to Maylie and beamed. "How's your sister?" he said. "How are you? What's up? Is anything new?"

Maylie plastered on a smile. "I'm good," she said, and flicked her eyes at the receptionist.

She nodded. "Of course, honey, let me look up the next available appointment times." She shooed Joseph. "Get going, mister. Your appointment is starting."

* * *

 

As she biked home she let her mind wander. The early November air was filled with fog that had rolled in from the bay, and cast an eerie, but almost comforting haze over the distant hills. She still wasn't quite sure what to make of Joseph's constant appearances. She turned a corner, sighing.

The thing with Joseph was this: she could imagine what he'd be like if he weren't such a mess, if he didn't give in to alcohol and weed and depression and whatever else it was, and this ideal image of him was actually quite nice. He had a nice face, with nice bone structure and sparkling greenish hazel eyes what reminded her of a tropical pond among browning fronds. At least, when he was happy. When he wasn't, she hardly noticed the color among the dark rings stamped around his eyes and the hollows in his cheeks.

And he was smart. Of course he was, with the classes he took, with the library books she saw hidden among the mess of his other things in his backpack, covered just so nobody could see. He was funny; he was sweet; he was thoughtful.

But he stumbled into school crossfaded; he let Tanner beat him up; he let himself go for days at a time.

Amelie used to be like that, once. She'd stagger home with the smell of vodka soaked into her hair; she'd lock her bedroom door and refuse to come out for days; she'd go missing for days and show up asking for a ride home because she'd passed out in a San Francisco nightclub and woken up in a hospital. And then she'd gone to rehab.

Her parents still hadn't gotten over it, and she imagined Joseph's parents. Did they worry? Did they know?

Her bike lurched. She flew forward, her palms hitting the sidewalk, then her knee. She rolled onto someone's lawn, tensed in pain. She didn't move for a minute, her eyes squeezed shut. When she finally dared to open them, she squinted at her hand. The damage was hard to make out; the sky was dark, the moon hidden by the clouds. Only the streetlights were lit.

The butt of her hand was red and shone with a hint of blood. She flicked a pebble out of her wound, and knew she'd have to wait until she got home to wash out the rest of the dirt and bacteria.

Her knee was screaming, too. She limped when she stood up. Luckily it wasn't scraped too bad; her pant leg had protected her, but she imagined a bad bruise would form soon.

It was someone's discarded project that had gotten her. She wasn't sure quite what it was, some wooden contraption with nails and screws sticking out here and there. And now part of the wood was cracked and split from her bike running into it. She propped up her bicycle and got back on.

But something still wasn't right. Not halfway down the block, it gave up again. The front wheel was deflated.

She knocked her head with her fist. "It's fine," she told herself, and walked her bike the rest of the way home.

* * *

 

When she opened the apartment door, she heard muffled yelling, the kind that warbled with the threat of slipping into full-on sobbing. And she froze. It was like someone had poured ice down her back and then suddenly switched on the air conditioner.

"You can't do that!" said her mother's voice.

"I can do whatever the damn hell I want!" said her father, but his voice sounded funny. As she inched toward the kitchen, and peeked at them, she realized what it was. As he talked he kept slightly losing his balance, and his hand grabbed at the air, the keyring looped around his finger tinkling. He was drunk.

"What if the police were there?" said Mrs. Yang. "What if they saw you, or you crashed, or something? You know they're always hiding around the corners, just waiting to ambush speeders, Phil!"

"Are you telling me you don't trust me to drive? I've been driving for thirty-five years!"

Maylie backed up, keeping her breathing as shallow and quiet as she could. She had to get out of the house. The tension was so thick in the air that she worried there was no more room for air to breathe.

But she couldn't drive, and she couldn't use her bike. She ran along the sidewalk, her backpack jerking with each step, her books and pencil pouch crashing into her back. Jenna and Saf were at a band competition tonight, one she'd had to miss due to her appointment with Amelie, and the last thing she wanted to do was inconvenience them... but she still couldn't drive. And she still had nowhere to go but back.

The brick facade and ivy-draped arches of Vineyard loomed, almost ominous in the dark, and Maylie called up the only other person she thought she could trust.

"Can you pick me up?" she said, and immediately he answered, "Of course."

* * *

 

He stopped his car in front of the grassy hill ten minutes later. The concern was written all over his expression.

"Thank you so much," she said. "Dropping me off at a McDonald's or somewhere is okay. As long as it's open."

"Are you sure?" His car was silent as it moved, the headlights casting moonbeams over hedges and eucalyptus trees. The succulent on his dashboard glowed softly.

Maylie nodded, then realized he couldn't watch her as he drove. So she began aloud, "Yeah-"

"It's already ten," Taehyun said. "Why don't you come over to my house? Dinner is still on the table."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You-you don't have to."

"My parents would love to have you," he said. "It's not safe to stay outside all night."

"Thank you," she mumbled. She stared out the window in embarrassment.

His house was in the hills, where the communities were oases among deserts of golden weeds, and houses were bigger and taller than those in the valley. The radio sang soft indie lullabies as the car rounded curves and corners of the hills, and passed the passcode-protected gates of Redwood Estates. The houses here were all less than twenty years old, with high arches in the doorways and stuccoed Spanish columns. The car pulled into the drive of the one with morning-glory adorned fences and tall rose bushes.

They entered through the garage, past discarded bicycles and garden tools and shelves of boxes, between two silver cars worth more than Maylie's entire home. They slipped their shoes off at the steps, Taehyun kicking his carelessly toward a small rack with more footwear under it than in it.

"Mom," he called, entering the house. "We have a guest."

She was small and curly and wore old slippers that clapped as she walked. "Hi!" she said. "Wow, you're so pretty!"

Maylie didn't really know what to say, so she ducked her head abashedly. "Thank you! I'm Maylie, by the way. His classmate."

"Oh,  _you're_ Maylie! Are you hungry?"

"Oh, um, not really-"

"Are you sure? Come come," Mrs. Larsson ushered, her hand behind Maylie's shoulders. "The dinner is still out on the table; I'll just warm it up real quick."

She directed her to the closest seat at a glossy dinner table. The cushions on the chair were embroidered abstractly, and the lazy susan was barely visible under the mosaic of dishes. Mrs. Larsson swept up the dishes one by one to microwave them, and Taehyun took the seat next to Maylie, noting, "My dad's busy in his office upstairs right now, or else he'd be down to say hi. Sorry about that."

"Oh, that's really no problem," she assured immediately, still taking in the strangeness of the household, detail by detail.

Mrs. Larsson said something in Korean to Taehyun as she passed by again, and he retorted, "Mom, you can't just ask if she's mixed-race."

" _Mianhae_ ," she replied in sing-song, and set a bowl of rice in front of Maylie. "Do you want anything to drink? Water, juice, milk, soda, tea?"

"Water's fine, thank you!"

"All right. The pork and cabbage are warm. Why don't you eat them before they get cold, okay?"

She did. She couldn't think of much else to do, and was deeply worried that anything else would come across as ungrateful. "Your mom is so nice," she said to Taehyun, which she hoped he understood as a thank you. Her water arrived a minute later, topped with ice and slices of lemon.

* * *

 

She was given the guest room to stay for the night, and after pulling her homework out to do, Taehyun knocked at the door.

"I just wanted to check if there's anything else you need," he said, standing in his pajamas. His hair was wet and beads dripped onto his shoulders. She could smell his shampoo from across the room.

"No, I'm good, thank you," she said.

"Oh. All right then." He closed the door, but Maylie jumped up, catching the handle before it shut.

"Wait."

He turned, and before she could change her mind, she hugged him, wrapping her arms around his torso. He was tall enough her cheek pressed into his chest.

"W-whoa," he said. "What's this for?" Belatedly, and awkwardly, he hugged her back.

She said it into his shirt first, but her voice was so muffled that she was sure he didn't hear it. So she lifted her head to look at him, and said it again. "Thank you, Taehyun." She hugged him harder just to prove how much she meant it.

He ruffled her hair, and even in the yellow, washed-out lighting of the room, everything about him sparkled. Or maybe it was just his wet hair and damp skin playing tricks on her eyes. "You don't have to say thank you, okay? I'll always be at your service."

She looked away immediately. She wanted to cry. She also didn't want to let go, or to do her homework, or to have to be alone, but she wasn't going to give in yet, at least not today. So she bid him goodnight, and pulled out her calc book, and wondered what on earth she was going to do.


	15. dine and dash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reviews and kudos last chapter! I can't express how much I appreciate it! For a little background: this is my first draft, and I'm publishing as I'm writing to keep myself accountable. I appreciate any and all feedback for when I complete this draft and return to revise it! Thanks again :)

A knock sounded on the guest room door at exactly seven in the morning. “Good morning, Maylie,” said Mrs. Larsson’s voice. “Whenever you’re ready, breakfast is on the table!”

Now, Maylie, pulled out a chair at the table by the kitchen. The room was hexagonal, with light pouring in from the three wide windows. The morning glow sent light dancing across the potted plants’ leaves, and glittering through the boughs of the redwoods lined up outside. Taehyun smiled at her as she sat down next to him, across from his parents. His father seemed almost surprised to see her, and as he held out his hand for an introduction, he smiled, sending wrinkle lines in a starburst around his eyes. He had salt-and-pepper whiskers, and a rather European look to him. 

Mrs. Larsson fussed over Maylie’s plate, dumping omelette pieces and egg slices and marinated tofu into a neat pile. 

“I think that’s enough, thank you!” said Maylie, and Mrs. Larsson tsked, shaking her head. “No no no, you need to eat more!”

“So what do your parents do?” said Mr. Larsson.

“They’re uh—my dad’s an accountant and my mom’s a biologist.”

“Oh, really,” he said, nodding with interest. “Sohyeon and I are lawyers. Ah, and how are your college applications going? Which schools are you applying to? We’re trying to get Taehyun to apply to Stanford—you know, that’s where his mom and I met: Stanford Law.”

“Dad,” Taehyun whined. “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

“Alright, alright,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t want your ol’ dad embarrassing you, huh?”

Taehyun stuffed a whole piece of omelette in his mouth as an answer.

“I’m not applying to Stanford,” said Maylie. “I’m not going to make it, and I can’t afford it anyway. I’m hoping for Berkeley with a scholarship. Or maybe community college and then transferring.”

Taehyun choked. “Community college?” he said, his mouth still full of food.

His mother glared at him. “Manners,” she said. “Maylie, if you’re looking for a scholarship, I know of a contest that might help. A film contest.”

“Really?” Maylie glanced at Taehyun. “But… I’m not that good at filmmaking, to be honest.”

Mrs. Larsson shook her head understandingly. “You have Taehyun, don’t you? Ask him to help.”

“Mom—”

She narrowed her eyes. “If she asks you for help, you help her, okay? Don’t be rude.”

“I was  _ going  _ to,” he muttered. 

Mrs. Larsson smiled brightly. “Maylie, the deadline is December 15th. There’s not that much time, but it’s a good opportunity. The prize is a ten thousand dollar scholarship. So I really recommend it.”

_ Ten thousand dollars? _ That was quite a bit of money already—and the impact it might make on her future loans—she had to try, at least.

Mrs. and Mr. Larsson stood, grabbing their bags and putting away dishes. “Think about it,” said Mrs. Larsson. “Taehyun can tell you more about it.” Then she kissed Taehyun’s head and left with her husband for work.

Maylie and Taehyun exchanged a look, and Taehyun said, “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” she said. “I’m doing it. Or I’m going to try.” She nodded. “But you don’t have to help me. It’s my own choice.”

“Of course I’ll help you!” he exclaimed, and she blushed, and it was settled.

She grabbed a napkin to dab at her fingers, and Taehyun said, “What’s that?”

She jumped. “What do you mean?”

He took her hand, inspecting the red scrape-marks on her palm that were just beginning to scab over. She’d washed it out with soap and water last night, but it still stang whenever she wasn’t careful and it rubbed against something. His eyes were wide. “What happened?”

She took her hand back, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I fell off my bike,” she said. “That’s why I called you. Because my tire broke.”

He was already out of his seat. “I’ll get you a bandaid,” he said, and returned with a whole first-aid kit. His eyes flicked up at hers. “Can you give me your hand?” he said, softly, and her hand was up on the table, palm up, before she could even think to say no thank you.

As he dabbed a q-tip with antibacterial serum onto the raw spots, his other hand holding hers in place gently, she nearly didn’t breathe, so focused on keeping her hand and fingers still. She stared at the point of interest so intently that soon she felt her vision going gray and had to look around, blinking wildly. The q-tip hit the biggest wound and she winced, taking a swift intake of breath. 

“Ahhh, I’m sorry!” he said, and she shook her head. 

“It’s fine, Taehyun,” she said. “We should get going, right?”

His ears went a little red. “Yeah,” he replied quickly, and pulled a bandage from the kit, sticking it neatly— or about as neatly as it could go, given the odd shape of the scrape—over her palm, and shut the kit. 

She watched him as he did it, and when he noticed, he stopped, staring back at her. The grandfather clock in the room next door clanged, and both stood up.

“It’s seven thirty,” he said, and she nodded, rubbing the nape of her neck. 

“I’ll go get my stuff,” she said.

* * *

 

The closer Taehyun’s car got to the school, the more faces she recognized on the sidewalks, and the faster her heart rate went. They rounded the soccer field, and she blurted, “You can just drop me off here.”

“But I’m going to the parking lot,” he said. “That’s closer, isn’t it?”

She could already hear the rumors swirling around her. Getting out of  _ his  _ car in the morning—what would people think? What would Laurie and Jenna and Tanner think? Her stomach twisted, and she almost wanted to open the window, lean over the side, and throw up. “I don’t feel very great,” she said, and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I just don’t want Laurie to get mad at me.”

He glanced at her and nodded. “I get it. You look kinda pale.” He stalled the car and put the back of his hand against her forehead. “I think you’re okay,” he said, and unlocked the door. “I’ll see you later, then.”

* * *

She didn’t see him all day. Or for most of it, at least. The calc test was alright, and for once Mr. Schwartz was awake and functioning.

“The administration says I have to make sure none of you cheat,” he said, but that wasn’t necessary. None of the girls would have been willing to share their answers anyway, even if Joseph tried to get peeks of their answer sheets. And even if Maylie could have been convinced to share hers, the death glares from the other three would have shot it down. Laurie was all about fair play, Saf was all about integrity, and Jenna just wanted to make sure no one would use the curve against her.

So instead of napping this morning, Mr. Schwartz played a slow-motion game of solitaire on his monitor. And when they handed in their scantrons and left the class, twenty minutes before the bell, Jenna pulled out her phone and said, “You won’t believe this. Natalie said the Jamie told her that Audrey saw Lars Larson dropping off a girl this morning.” Her eyes were wide, and conspiratorial. “Who do you think it is? A cousin? A  _ hookup _ ?”

Maylie choked on air. 

“Who are you, the National Enquirer?” said Saf, rolling her eyes.

“How do you know it’s real if you got it through a game of telephone?” said Maylie.

Jenna raised an eyebrow. “Why do you care? You don’t usually care. Do I need to know something?”

“I’m just saying,” she said defensively, and then a notification popped up on Jenna’s screen and she moved on. 

“Oh my god, you guys,” Jenna exclaimed. “So guess who’s holding another party tomorrow?”

When the bell finally rang, Maylie headed off to AP Lit by herself. Actually, recently, she’d been finding her way to class without much problem. And it wasn’t because of her memory. Rather, she’d been studying up on plants while she’d been bored in her chemistry class. And she’d realized a few things: The letters of each ring of classrooms represented Youth for Y, Love for L, Memory for M, and Death for D, and the plants in each ring fit the themes one way or another. Like the baby’s breath in Y, the red roses in L, the bamboo in M, and the lilies in D. And in the hallway courtyards, the trees planted in the center seemed to be randomly ordered birches and Japanese maples, but she’d noticed, after a few times sneaking in and out of the secret passages, either with Taehyun or on her own, that every maple lined up with a passage entrance—or rather, each time she stepped out of a corridor, she stepped onto a carpet of winged helicopter seeds. 

* * *

Near the end of lunch, Maylie excused herself from the table to go to the restroom. Or—while Saf and Jenna were deeply engaged in an argument about the recent Supreme Court case, Maylie slipped off quietly. If they’d noticed, they might have badgered her about why she had to ditch them like that. Jenna and Saf were big believers of going to the restroom in packs.

“Hermione went by herself and she got attacked by a troll,” Jenna explained. 

But Maylie hated to bother other people by interrupting their conversations and forcing someone to wait outside the stalls for her, so she liked to quietly slip off by herself.

When she finished, and stepped out of the restroom, the hall was empty. Well, except for someone at the other end, in a familiar brown hoodie, refilling his water bottle. 

She hoped he wouldn’t see her. Or that he wouldn’t say anything. But already she heard steps. 

“Maylie!” Taehyun said, jogging up to her. The water sloshed up the sides of his bottle as he tried to cap it and run. 

“H-hi,” she said, and checked around, making sure no one else decided to join them.

He noticed her expression and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward a maple tree and the passage hidden near it. She looked around one last time before they disappeared behind the ivy curtain. 

He leaned against the brick wall, a smile breaking out across his mouth. She did the same, stepping back to let the wall carry her weight.

“How are you?” he said, slightly short of breath.

“Fine,” she said, and laughed. His smile was infectious.

“How’s your hand?”

She held it out to him. “Better, thanks to you.” He raised an eyebrow and took her hand, passing his thumb lightly over the bandage. She winced, and he withdrew his hand. She fiddled with her hair sheepishly. “I mean, it still hasn’t healed, but it’s only been a few hours.”

“Of course,” he said.

“Tell me about the film contest,” she said, so he explained it. She made notes on her phone, and when he was done with his rather succinct explanation, she realized he’d never said anything about his own participation.

“Because I’m not,” he said. 

“Why? Are you too busy?”

He scratched his head. “Well… I don’t really know if I can say, to be honest.”

She had no idea what that meant, but before she could think of a way to ask him, the bell rang, so she just blurted, “Uh… okay, then,” and stood up quickly. “I should go get my backpack.”

He nodded, but as she reached for the ivy curtain, he hastily grabbed her wrist again. “Hey, wait—Uh… Are you still finding your way to class fine without my help?” 

His hand was warm and clammy against her skin. It was like her heart had leaped into her throat, still beating. And as she looked at him, thinking of a way to respond, he let go of her, his lashes flickering as he moved his away from her, almost abashedly. Before she could change her mind, she hopped up on her tiptoes, close to him, his head turning in surprise, and planted a butterfly kiss on his cheek. “I’ve figured out the botanical code,” she said, her words coming out amazingly coherent. “I’m fine.” 

And with a small wave and a small smile, the heat rising to her cheeks, she turned and dashed out of the ivy. 


End file.
